The Idiot's Guide
by azulfanatica
Summary: Three years after his death, Tim Speedle is still shaking things up at the lab. How does he forever alter the lives of his two best friends-from beyond the grave? E/C, R/N. *Note: Deleted and Re-posted.
1. Chapter 1

Full Title: _The Idiot's Guide to Realizing You're in Love with Your Best Friend, by Timothy Speedle_

A/N 1: Set between ep.6x06, "Sunblock," and ep.6x09, "Stand Your Ground." Not beta'd.

(5/22/10) Deleted and re-posted***

(7/1/10) All told, I have received over 70 reviews for this story. As a newcomer to the world of fanfiction, I've been blown away by your responses. Thank you, so very much! Please, keep reading and responding!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1

* * *

Natalia Boa Vista was most certainly a saint. Over the last several weeks, Ryan had to answer to some of the costliest mistakes of his life, and she was with him every step of the way. Without Natalia's help and support, Ryan knew he would not be standing back in the Miami Dade Crime Lab, gun and badge on his hip.

That thought crossed Wolfe's mind repeatedly as he sorted through box after box of ancient case files and lab records. IAB had approved his return to CSI on the condition of one month's probation; thus, Ryan found himself stuck in the lab for a few weeks, culling through old storage. The fact that this seemingly endless project would free up some badly needed space for Natalia compelled Ryan to take the task seriously.

So far, he hadn't hit any bumps in the proverbial road. On the far wall of the storage locker sat a tower of boxes that Ryan determined should be sent to the county archives for imaging—digital storage saved space and killed far fewer trees.

To his right stood another mountain of boxes, these all containing open cases from the last several years; the vast majority of these cases were ice cold, but every now and then the CSIs liked to revisit them to search for new leads.

A third stack consisted of old evidence that needed to be transferred to county lock-up. Ryan hefted the last box to the top of this pile with a heavy grunt, wiping his hands free of dust and smiling satisfactorily at this work.

He didn't mind the tedium, if this is what it took to return to full duty. But after almost three weeks of painstakingly going through all of these boxes, Ryan was more than ready to bid them farewell. He came to stand in front of the last, and largest, pile in the middle of the room.

Ryan saved this assortment of miscellaneous items for the end, partly because he could easily separate what he needed to keep from the junk he could toss, and partly because organizing these last few, random items would be the most time consuming as he tried to figure out where things should go.

Before he could jump in to the fray, Natalia popped her head around the door. "Hey Ry, how's it coming?"

Wolfe turned around to greet his friend and co-worker. "Not too shabby," he said with a grin. "Getting close to the end. Then you and Valera will have this place to yourselves."

"I can't thank you enough for doing this, Ryan," Natalia said earnestly. "I know there are other things you could be doing on desk-duty besides organizing a dusty old storage locker."

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "It's no problem. This doesn't even come close to repaying you for all your help. Besides," he added smiling, "I've found some really interesting stuff in here."

Natalia rounded the door and crossed her arms curiously. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Well, last week I finished cataloguing all the cold cases." He moved to the appropriate stack and indicated a particular box buried in with the rest. "And I noticed a pattern with some of the cases."

"Oh yeah, Horatio was telling me about this!" Nat said excitedly. "Three of the old cases matched the MO of one of Calleigh's open investigations."

"Exactly. Miami has a serial killer that we didn't know about, because all of these files were shoved back here, forgotten. Brass approved bringing in some extra man power to review all these cold cases."

Natalia smirked, "Only you, Mr. OCD, could return to work and within a few weeks find a serial killer."

_When she puts it that way, I guess I am kind of perfect for this job_, Ryan laughed to himself. _Usually people are complaining about how anal I am, not praising me for it. _That was a strange sensation.

A faint blush crept up his neck. "Calleigh found the killer, Nat, not me. I just helped."

"Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "Either way, you should feel pretty proud of yourself."

Ryan smiled warmly at the compliment. "I do."

They stood staring at each other for a few seconds before Natalia turned to leave. "Well, I just wanted to check on you. Are you still on for tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he said easily. "Car pool?"

"Please. Locker room after shift?"

"See you there," Ryan agreed. With one last smile, Natalia was out the door.

Turning his attention back to his monumental project, Ryan realized he felt truly happy for the first time in a long time. After everything that had happened, after all his lies and betrayals and ridiculous missteps, he still belonged here.

When he first arrived on the job almost three years ago, Ryan came to work every morning wondering if he would end the day still working at the lab. He couldn't recall all the times he had just wanted to quit. But then he remembered Horatio's confidence in his ability to do this job, how much he had to fight to be here in the first place, and he kept going.

Calleigh made things easier his first year when Delko was threatening to kill him every other day (according to Eric, he knew at least a dozen different ways to murder Wolfe and dispose of his body without anyone being the wiser). The ballistics expert and senior CSI had taken Ryan under her wing, personally overseeing his training and ensuring him that he did, in fact, belong there.

As for the other Level 3 CSI at the lab, time would tell. Two months after Ryan was shot in the eye with the nail gun, Delko asked him if he wanted to go out for beers. Wolfe agreed, although deep down he feared it was just a ruse to slip something in his drink.

Eric surprised him. After a year and a half of bitching and moaning about Ryan and his work, Delko apologized for not giving him a chance. That one night of drinks changed things drastically for the two men: Delko admitted that he'd taken out his anger at losing Speedle on the new trainee, and that, in reality, Wolfe had become an important part of the team.

The confession was all the more significant given that their mutual animosity had reached a fever pitch over a string of misunderstandings. In fact, those very misunderstandings (along with pleas from both Calleigh and Marisol, although Wolfe would never know that) prompted Eric to reach out to his younger colleague.

After Delko explained some of the reasons behind his behavior, Ryan finally accepted that Eric didn't really hate him; the multiple changes and challenges of the last year had simply left him reeling, and Ryan was an easy outlet for his anger. By the end of the night, the two men shook hands and agreed to start fresh.

_Not that Delko ever really gets off my back_, Ryan thought with a laugh, coming back to the present. They still butted heads and got under each other's skin, but the previous underlying animosity was absent. Standing alone in the storage room tucked at the back of CSI headquarters, Ryan chuckled—not for the first time—at the irony of fate.

When Horatio first established the new crime scene investigation unit at Miami Dade PD in 1997, the team consisted of a grand total of seven people: Horatio, Megan, Calleigh, Speedle, and a handful of lab technicians. Eric joined the team shortly thereafter. Although the group had grown exponentially over the years and the names and faces had changed, Ryan Wolfe was still the first new CSI to join the team since its inception. If he was completely honest with himself, Ryan could totally understand Eric's hesitancy to accept him.

He and Delko were good friends now. Actually, Ryan counted him among his closest friends, even though he knew a barrier would always exist somewhere between them; no one could ever come as close to Eric as Tim Speedle. For four years, the two men had been inseparable.

Tonight, the past was all behind them. Months had passed since the team last gathered at Sully's for drinks and dancing after work, and Ryan found himself looking forward to it immensely. Eric, Calleigh, Maxine, Natalia, Tripp, Alexx, and Ryan would all be there; only Horatio, who had to take care of some business with Kyle, begged out for the evening.

_I'm never going to get there if I don't get this done_, _though,_ Ryan lamented as he surveyed the mound of conglomerate debris on the lab table in front of him. Lamely, he picked up an old clip-on desk lamp and dropped it back to the table, wondering where on earth to begin.

Eventually, he decided to just tackle one corner and go from there.

Two hours later, Ryan had made significant headway: one third of the miscellaneous items, from discarded office supplies to obsolete lab equipment to … _What was that?_... were now separated into a rubbish pile. He'd culled through the entire heap to locate file boxes and any loose papers, and he set them aside to organize last.

Then, the man set to work creating an inventory of the remaining items: glass beakers, pipettes, boxes and boxes of rubber gloves, ten years worth of technical manuals, and a thousand other things used every day at the Crime Lab.

Looking up at the clock, Ryan realized what time it was just as his stomach offered a loud grumble._ Yes! Finished right in time for lunch._ Dumping the last of the manuals in a box (chronologically and alphabetically ordered, of course) he headed out the door with a spring in his step, knowing he only lacked the files until he finished.

One hour and a hot pastrami sandwich later, a fed and contented Ryan re-emerged in his home-away-from-home of the last few weeks. Soon, this entire storage room would be empty, and he relished the thought as he zeroed in on his final task.

He rolled a chair up to the lab table and opened the first plain, white file box. There were ten boxes in total, along with various loose piles of old personnel records, performance reviews, and pointless bureaucratic paperwork that would occupy him for the rest of the day.

The first four boxes contained copies of old court orders, evidence request forms, and the like, and Ryan easily discarded half the material, sending the other half to the archive pile. On the fifth box, he hit a snag.

_These aren't files at all_, Wolfe thought, peering into the cardboard file box. In fact, the box held what seemed to be someone's personal belongings. Quickly, Ryan checked the outside of the container. _Nope, no label_. Weird.

Reaching for the next box, he realized it, too, consisted of mostly personal items. All five remaining boxes were the same: plain white, no label, and filled with someone's personal property. He put them aside to deal with last.

Ryan thought about something Natalia told him when she first explained his new job as storage clerk: _'Most of this stuff has been here for years. When the building was renovated, this section was left alone, and a lot of crap from around the lab ended up being crammed into any available space back here.'_ She had laughed at the look on his face when he saw what he was up against. Ryan barely even knew these storage rooms existed, let alone stepped foot in one.

With the five boxes in front of him as the last hurdle an hour later, Ryan once more dove into the first container, pulling out random artifacts and spreading them on the table to get a better idea of what they were. Gradually, the table lay scattered with a video camera, a long-lens Nikon, a large stack of developed photos still in their envelopes, and dozens of jewel-cased computer discs. He knew that the others held much the same as the first, with the added presence of several articles of clothing, various books and DVDs, and a vast collection of music.

_Who in the world would just leave all their stuff here?_ As Ryan picked up the first envelope of photos and perused the pictures, he had his answer, and his stomach sank. This was _so_ wrong—there was no way he could go through all of this stuff.

In his hand, Wolfe held a picture of three young, carefree friends, arms wrapped tightly around each other as they laughed at some internal joke. He flipped to the next picture: a gorgeous blonde woman rode piggyback on a man Ryan did not recognize, her face a picture of shock as she nearly fell, screaming and laughing, off the man's back.

Ryan stared at the next photo for a long time, unable to tear his eyes away. A young man stared straight at the camera with a blazing smile, as the same beautiful blonde woman pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Ryan suddenly flipped to the next photo as if he'd been burned. Then he quickly shuffled through the rest in his hand. Some of the pictures were candid shots, some were self portraits of the cameraman and various individuals, but all of them possessed an artistic quality that added a depth and mysterious significance to each photo, like they had a story to tell.

Three-quarters of the envelope contained pictures of the same three young, blissfully happy people. There were easily over two dozen envelopes filled with photos, and Ryan frantically searched through the different packages, seeking evidence to confirm his suspicions.

Every last envelope was the same: overflowing with years' worth of memories of a time long before Ryan's at the Crime Lab, a time that was seldom discussed in his presence.

These pictures featured many people Ryan recognized, like Horatio, Yelina, Tripp, Valera, and Alexx, along with many he didn't. The majority, however, were images of Eric Delko, Calleigh Duquesne, and a man who could only be Timothy Speedle.

Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat. He thought he'd understood. He thought he knew just how close the team had been before he arrived, but he didn't. In the grand scheme of things, ten years didn't seem like much. But the differences between the Calleigh and Eric in these photos and the two people he called friends was startling.

Ryan had never seen Calleigh so free, or Eric as happy and settled, as they were in these pictures. He couldn't get over how young they looked. Time, loss, and the burdens of responsibility had marked Calleigh and Eric in a way Ryan never knew until now.

Slowly rearranging the envelopes, the young CSI collapsed heavily onto the lab chair. These boxes belonged to Tim Speedle. Even with Horatio, the discussion of this fallen friend and comrade was a touchy issue. Eric refused to touch Speedle's locker to this day. How would they react to finding five large boxes of his personal belongings, hidden in a dingy storage locker for three years?

Ryan returned all the items to the first box and placed the lid on top, knowing what he had to do. He pulled himself off the chair and headed out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Twenty minutes of searching yielded Ryan no luck, until he spotted Delko making his way down the hallway with a file in hand.

"Eric, wait up!" Ryan called after him.

"Hey man, how's Spring Cleaning coming along?" the tall Cuban laughed.

Wolfe returned Eric's grin with a small smile that his friend immediately recognized as forced. He waited to see if Ryan would tell him what was bothering him, and he was not disappointed.

"Actually, that's what I was coming to talk to you about. Do you know where Calleigh is?"

"Yeah, she's with H out in Coral Gables. What's up?"

Ryan hesitated, not sure how to best broach the subject. He'd really hoped to do this with Horatio and Calleigh present as well. Instead, he was left all alone to explain the situation to the man who would take it the hardest.

"Uh, yeah." He started, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and staring at his feet for a moment. "I think you need to come with me."

"What?" _He's seriously concerned about something_, Eric thought to himself, wondering what could possibly bother Ryan so much in a storage closet. "The spiders scaring you?" he joked lightheartedly.

"No. I, uh, I found something you need to see." Eric was listening now.

"Okay, just let me drop this off in QD."

"Sure." Ryan followed Delko to the questioned documents lab, then led the way to the back of the same floor, all the while trying to think of a way to break this to his friend easily. Really, there was no easy way to do it.

Eric entered the locker right behind Ryan, letting out an appreciative whistle for the progress the man had made. "Damn, Wolfe, this room hasn't looked this good since I started here!"

Ryan just chuckled. "Well, it was _so_ much fun, let me tell you."

Eric studied the man next to him with a practiced eye. "Something tells me you didn't drag me all the way back here to admire your handiwork."

"No, I didn't. Um, do you remember when the lab went through its remodel, how we couldn't find anything for weeks?"

"Yeah," Eric recalled, "The moving crews and technicians had shuffled everything around."

"Right. Well, half of it ended up in these back storage rooms."

"Spit it out, Ryan," Eric stated bluntly. He could tell when Ryan was stalling, and he was _definitely_ stalling right now.

"Ugh," he sighed. "Fine. The very last things I sorted were these file boxes," he indicated toward the table. "They were stacked up in the corner around that old desk, and in the cabinet next to it."

"And—" Eric urged quietly, an inexplicable feeling of dread settling deep in his stomach. He knew that desk, that corner, and he could only guess where this was going.

"Eric, they belong to CSI Speedle."

The reaction Wolfe expected never came. Eric simply stood stone still, gazing numbly at the boxes on the lab table.

"I—I thought you, and H, and Calleigh should go through them," Ryan said softly. Still no reaction from Eric, so Ryan just waited. Three minutes passed by in complete silence before Eric moved from his spot, cautiously approaching the five boxes.

This was surreal. _Five boxes. Five boxes are all that are left of Tim_. Eric thought about him every day, but most of the time he kept his memories of his best friend locked away tightly in a drawer at the back of his mind; conjuring up thoughts of their time together hurt too much, even after three years. He knew that it would always feel that way.

Eric placed a trembling hand on the lid of the box closest to him, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. A sense of shame washed over him. Tim was his best friend, and Eric had allowed the last testaments of his existence to lie forsaken in a damn storage closet. He desperately wished Calleigh were here with him, because he wasn't sure he could do this by himself. On the other hand, Eric knew he had to do this now.

"Have you gone through these?" he asked with a dead voice that scared Ryan.

"Only to see what was inside. Once I realized…well, I came to find you."

Eric nodded, but offered no further response, so Ryan spoke up again. "Do, uh, do you want me to leave you alone?"

He wasn't quite sure what to do. The man before him had gone to a very dark place, and Wolfe knew from experience that no one should be left to fend for themselves in times like those. He also knew that his and Eric's friendship was still developing, and that talking about Speedle could be awkward at best, and lethal at worst.

"No, it's okay." Eric muttered with a sigh.

"Do you know why Speedle's things would be tucked away like this?" Ryan probed gently.

Another sigh. A thousand unbidden images had flooded Eric's mind. "Speed used to come back here to escape," he said distantly, lost in another world. "Listen to music, study his cases, work on random projects. He spent more time in here than he did in the lab."

It was strange to be talking about his friend like this. With the exception of Calleigh, Eric hadn't spoken about Tim Speedle to anyone since his funeral. Let alone the obnoxious, brown-nosing little twit that was Ryan Wolfe. Things had changed, though. Wolfe had turned out to be a good friend and capable CSI. More than anything else, Eric didn't want to be left alone in this stifling room with only painful memories of his dead friend to keep him company.

He reached for the lid and pushed it aside to reveal the contents of the box. He smiled wistfully as he spied the items inside, looking just as they had all those years ago. He felt like he had just taken a giant step back in time. Grasping the box in his hands, Eric carefully dumped everything onto the glass table.

Speed's cameras, hundreds of pictures, countless CDs. Eric knew Tim's ever-present MP3 player was safely ensconced in his locker five floors below. He grabbed a swivel chair and fell into it, sad nostalgia finally overtaking him.

Ryan watched it all, increasingly concerned that Eric might not be able to do this on his own. Maybe he _should_ have waited for Calleigh to get back.

"Speed always had a camera ready," Eric remarked slowly as he reached for the video recorder. He unconsciously pressed the power button, and to his (and Ryan's) unending surprise, the camera sprang to life. _Must run on a lithium battery,_ Ryan thought.

Eric froze. In his hands he held Tim Speedle's camcorder, and on the screen he saw a still-frame of the last video Speed ever shot. It was a picture of a radiant Calleigh, looking at something off-screen with a breathtaking smile.

The pain hit Eric like a ton of bricks and tears filled his eyes. _'You're the most beautiful woman in the world,'_ Speed was constantly telling Calleigh. Eric had never been able to be so candid with Calleigh, because their relationship was always tinged with something else that didn't exist between the other two. Some waters were better left un-tread, Eric had once told Speed.

Looking at the picture on the screen, Eric couldn't help but agree with Speedle: Calleigh was stunning. _She looks so happy_, he thought sadly, mourning the loss of the innocence they knew before Tim was killed. He also mourned the loss of part of that extra-special bond he used to share with Calleigh. Something broke between them three years ago, and it had taken Eric's own near-death for them to get their acts together.

Despite the trials and tribulations of the last years, Eric and Calleigh were closer than ever; their friendship had just taken on a new significance than the one they shared before.

Eric didn't want to think about that right now. He set the video camera on the table and moved to the envelopes. As soon as he saw the first few pictures of he, Tim, and Calleigh, however, Eric shoved the photos roughly back into the envelope and slapped them on the table. It was too late; the last image, one of him and Calleigh at a bar, deep in conversation, was burned into his memory. Eric knew precisely when that picture was taken: exactly one week before Tim's shooting. That night… _No, not going there._

Ryan saw Eric lean against the table, his chest heaving, his back visibly taut, and he felt completely helpless. The only remarkable emotions Ryan usually saw on Eric's face were longing (even though he tried to hide it) and anger. Nothing he could say to Eric right now would make this any easier, so he stayed silently perched in his chair.

Eventually, Eric stood up once more from the table. His back was still toward Ryan as he said, "This isn't fair." It had only been a few weeks since Dan Cooper had resurrected Speed from the dead, and Eric had been forced to say goodbye for a second time. Three times was too much.

"Delko," Ryan began to say quietly, "I—I know I'm the last person you want to hear this from. But maybe this isn't such a bad thing?"

Eric whipped around to stare at Ryan like he'd grown another head. "What?"

"Think about it… You've just been given five full boxes of things to remember your old friend by. Dredging up the memories can suck, but at least you can remember the good times." He sincerely hoped he hadn't just crossed some unforgivable line.

But Eric only sighed and scrubbed the back of his head. "You've been spending too much time with Calleigh," he quipped with a sad grin.

Ryan laughed. "True. That does sound like something she would say."

"Well, she's a smart woman," Eric stated, mind far away. He turned back to the table, leaning on his hands to survey everything. He knew that Speedle spent hours upon hours at the lab in his free time, messing around with the A/V equipment. By the looks of the number of jewel-cases in this box alone, Eric realized he'd only seen a fraction of his friend's work.

"He loved to take pictures. Always shoving his damn camera in our faces," Eric commented, more for the sake of remembering than for Ryan's edification. "Ha! And the videos—H put him on dumpster duty for a month for one of his little films. He had a gift for it." His voice grew quiet at the end, and he stared down at his hands.

"What could he have done to warrant an entire month of dumpster diving?" Ryan asked in amusement.

Eric chuckled deeply and shifted to look at Wolfe. "Speed was always editing together bits and pieces of footage to create short films. Some of them were… I don't know, just really artsy. Some of them were freakin' hilarious."

Eric's smile grew wider as he recalled some of Tim's stunts. "For about two months, he went around with his camera, secretly recording H. Then he pulled it all together into a grand masterwork: a rolling montage of Horatio's love affair with his sunglasses. One after the other."

Ryan gaped at Eric. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

Both of them rolled with laughter. "You know it's probably here somewhere," Eric said thoughtfully through his chuckles. "He made an extra copy before H confiscated his."

And they set to look searching...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

"Yelina's Birthday… Alexx and Jamie, Mother's Day 2000… Calleigh's Promotion 1999… Adell's Farewell Reception…"

Ryan listed off title after title as he sifted through the countless discs that filled the first file box. Eric had moved on to the second one, and he felt like he was getting closer. These videos included some of Tim's more artistic work, from mock-horror shorts to digitally animated comedies.

"Sara's Revenge… Gilgamesh Rising… A Day with Elliot and Alice… Letters from Dixieland… Calico Calleigh…" Eric read, laughing heartily at the last title. He remembered how Speedle had projected Calleigh's future if she never found a man (_'Which is highly unlikely…'_). In his five-minute flick, Cal turned into an obsessive cat lady who took over Horatio's job only to be fired after she contaminated evidence with stray hair from her tabby.

Wolfe interrupted his reverie. "Look at the next one in your hand!"

Eric peered down and smiled in triumph. "Horatio Caine and the Sunglass Serenade," he said chuckling.

Ryan scrunched his nose. "Sounds like a twisted Sherlock Holmes story."

"That's what I said!" Eric laughed.

"Well, pop it in," the younger CSI urged.

Delko hesitated. If Horatio walked in on them watching this video… "Here's the deal, we have to do this carefully. H _really_ busted Speed's balls for this last time."

Ryan smirked. "Well I _really_ want to see it. H is in the Gables, and no one else is within fifty feet of us. We can turn the computer away from the door."

"Fine," Eric stated with a grin. He got up from the table and went over to 'Tim's desk,' slipping the disc into the computer's drive and twisting the screen away from the door. Both men took an eager seat and settled in to watch the show.

Five minutes later, Ryan was literally crying on the floor. Well, almost. He was in grave danger of falling out of his chair, at least, and Delko wasn't in much better shape. _That was so much better the second time, _he thought to himself.

"Oh my God," Ryan panted, wiping tears from his eyes, "I can't believe someone actually captured the greatness of Horatio Caine on film."

Eric chuckled, trying to catch his breath. "Well, like I said—Speed had a gift."

"I can't imagine what's on the rest of those DVDs," Ryan said thoughtfully, and a little in awe. "Have you seen them?"

"No," Eric shook his head. "I've seen maybe half of them. There are a bunch I don't recognize." He coasted his chair back to the lab table and picked up a stack of discs with which he wasn't familiar, lifting them up to show Ryan as an example.

"Like these. Some of these go back years—even before I came to the lab. Others are more recent, like this one," he held up a single jewel case. "It's marked Christmas 2003."

Ryan was paying attention to Eric as he explained the various videos in the boxes. Apparently Tim experimented with various genres: he went through a period of producing silent films, animated shorts, documentaries, video collages. Not to mention that he was the official videographer for practically every remarkable occasion for the CSI family. Thus, his library of works was prolific.

As his friend spoke, however, Ryan migrated back to the table and opened the third box. More discs met his gaze, as well as an envelope he hadn't noticed the first time he glanced in the box.

Wedged in between a gray hoodie, a pair of sneakers, and an old camera, Ryan spotted a manila envelope. It was thick-ish, so he guessed that it contained more than just a letter or documents. He also noticed some writing on the front of the package, and he moved the sweatshirt aside to get a better look. Ryan froze.

"Delko."

Something in Ryan's voice stopped Eric mid-sentence, and his eyes-snapped to his fellow CSI. Ryan's gaze was fixed on something in the box in front of him, and his hand was slowly pulling an object from its depths. The Cuban man watched as his friend pulled a slim manila folder from the box. He held it in both his hands and simply stared at it.

"Eric, when did you say Speedle died?" Ryan asked quietly. That was a painful question, he knew, but given what he'd just found, it was extremely relevant.

Eric clenched his teeth. "Why?" he asked in response, his voice a little strangled.

"When, Eric? The exact day." Ryan finally glanced up and met Delko's eyes, and the earnestness in his gaze told Eric that something had seriously shaken the man across from him.

"September 20, 2004." He looked away, trying to reel in the depression that was quickly overwhelming him. He had never spoken that date out loud. Not once. Somehow he realized that Wolfe had stopped breathing, and his head jerked back up in concern.

Ryan couldn't meet Eric's eyes this time. His voice was a little shaky as he explained, "This envelope… Eric it has your name on it, and it's dated… it's dated the day Speedle died."

_It's dated the day Speedle died. The day Speedle died. The day Speedle died_. Wolfe's words were on torturous repeat in Eric's mind. He stared at the man in shocked disbelief. Numbly, he took the inconspicuous parcel from his friend.

He recognized Tim's lazy scrawl on the front. 'Delko, The Idiot's Guide, 9/20/2004,' it read. Eric ran his fingers over the words, almost like he could bring Tim back if he could just feel the place the man had touched so soon before he died. The connection was there—Eric could picture Speed writing the words, could hear his laugh as he planned how to give it to his best friend—but it wouldn't bring him back. Nothing could.

The gaping hole in his chest ached with a vengeance. Eric felt like he was dreaming as he turned the envelope over in his hands and silently slipped his fingers under the flap, gently emptying the contents into his hand. A white gold chain, a DVD, and no note.

Eric's brows furrowed as he peered inside the envelope, looking for something else. But there was nothing, just the chain and the single disc. Eric looked closer at the objects in his hands. The disc was encased in a plain black jewel case with a clear front. The label bore no markings.

The chain held much more significance to Eric than the DVD. A barrage of memories inundated him as he surveyed the necklace. It wasn't just a necklace: at the end of the chain dangled a size-four, white-gold, oval-cut diamond ring. Tiny diamonds lined the band of the ring, which split into a 'V' on either side of the main setting.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. For weeks after Tim's death, Eric had searched for this necklace. It should have been in his best friend's personal effects at the hospital, but when he couldn't find it there, the young CSI frantically started looking for it _everywhere_. Finally, he lodged a complaint with the hospital, because the necklace—and the ring—were gone, and he could only assume they were stolen. The thought haunted him.

Right after college Tim met a woman named Charlotte on a weekend trip with his buddies. Charlie was vivacious and caring and witty, and she perfectly complemented Speedle's more reserved personality. They kept in touch, even though they lived fifteen-hundred miles apart. A year later, Tim moved from New York, Charlie left her job in Arizona, and they both ended up in Northern Florida. Not long after they moved in together, Speedle caught his girlfriend spying a diamond ring at an antique shop. She kept walking past the case, kept staring at that ring. The next day, Tim went back and bought the ring, even though it killed his next several paychecks.

Two weeks later, a drunk driver plowed into a café where Charlotte was meeting an old friend. She was killed instantly, along with three others. Tim Speedle was never the same. He wore her ring around his neck every day, without fail.

Eric asked him about it on a particularly hot day out in the Glades, and he spilled the entire story. Calleigh already knew, but no one else, and it remained that way until the day Speedle died. Until the day that Eric couldn't find the ring.

Three years later, Eric understood. Speedle had taken it off himself, and left it hidden, here, in this envelope. _Why?_ He had no clue. Eric could only hope the answer was on the DVD in his other hand. His fingers clenched around the delicate necklace and its diamond ornament.

Ryan watched the scene unfold before him with trepidation. Delko was obviously confused by the cryptic package, and extremely edgy about something else.

"Eric?" he probed.

The man's eyes darted to Ryan's momentarily before they returned to survey the boxes on the table. "Help me get this stuff back where it belongs," he said urgently.

When Ryan failed to move, Eric became almost frantic, quickly shoveling discs and pictures and camera equipment back into the white file boxes. "Help me!"

Ryan watched his friend with alarm. He put a hand out to still Delko's arm firmly, and the man simply collapsed into the swivel chair by the lab table. The manila envelope remained in his hand the entire time, chain and compact disc dangling from his fingers.

"I've got it, alright?" Ryan said cautiously. He swiftly squared away the rest of the loose items. Meanwhile, Eric had glided back to the desk in the corner and was currently kicking the old computer's tower. He was furious.

"This damn thing's frozen!" he growled.

"What are you trying to do?"

"I want to watch this movie," Eric explained roughly.

"Why don't you go watch it in the A/V lab?" his friend suggested softly. Since Cooper's departure, the lab had remained empty. Horatio had yet to hire a new technician, so the CSIs were currently handling their own A/V work.

Eric looked up at him, debating the idea. On the one hand, that really was the best place for him to view the contents of the disc. On the other, the lab was far from private.

"What the hell," he sighed to himself as he stood from the chair. "Let's go."

Ryan was surprised at the invitation. "Are you sure you want me in there?" he queried.

Delko didn't bat an eye but just shrugged. "Yes. Calleigh's not here, so…"

He didn't finish his statement, but Ryan understood. Eric didn't want to watch it alone, even if that meant that he, Ryan, would be the one standing at the man's side. He nodded, and the pair made their way out of the storage room and down the hall toward the A/V lab.

"Eric, Ryan!" a sweet Southern voice called to the CSIs as they passed an adjoining corridor. "Hold on!"

Calleigh quickly and gracefully made her way to her co-workers and greeted them with a brilliant smile. Ryan noticed that it wasn't quite as bright as the smiles he'd seen in photographs only half-an-hour before. The thought dampened his spirit, and he had a hard time returning Calleigh's grin.

The ballistics maven had wanted to update Delko and Wolfe on the case she and Horatio were working, but she quickly ascertained that something was wrong. Really wrong. Eric's eyes were red-rimmed, although she could tell he'd not been crying. He held some sort of envelope in his hand, and his knuckles were white because he was gripping it so tightly. His whole body was tense.

Beside him, Ryan stood equally tense. He couldn't quite meet Calleigh's inquiring green eyes, and she noticed that he'd crossed his arms over his chest and ducked his head the way he always did when he was trying to hide something.

The woman looked between the two men suspiciously, their anxiety spreading rapidly to her own small frame. "Guys," she said slowly, "what's going on?"

Neither man said a word. They shared a brief glance, and Eric tried to open his mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Eric?"

Her best friend looked at her fully for the first time since she walked up, and the pain in his deep brown eyes nearly knocked Calleigh backward. He took a step forward and placed a gentle hand on her elbow.

"Cal, um—" Eric stopped and sent a tiny look in Wolfe's direction. The man got the hint.

"I'll meet you there," Ryan said quickly and turned away from Eric and Calleigh.

"Eric?" She was actually fearful now, and she raised her hand to rest on the arm Eric had extended to her.

Another silent beat, then Eric spoke. "Cal, Ryan found some things while he was cleaning out the storage room for Natalia." He took a deep breath and met Calleigh's penetrating gaze. "Some things that belonged to Speed."

The blonde CSI's eyes grew wide and her lips parted slightly in surprise. "What?"

"Yeah, um… yeah." Eric dropped his hand from Calleigh's arm and ran it harshly over his shaven head. "That's not all…there was an envelope in one of the boxes with my—with my name on it." He held out the manila envelope for her to see, along with the jewel case and the necklace.

Calleigh gasped. "Oh my God," she whispered, taking the chain in her hand and letting it fall through her fingers. Her eyes traveled to the envelope, and she gasped again, more sharply this time. "Oh my God."

Like Eric had done before, she lightly traced the letters on the front of the envelope. "Eric," she said softly, closing her eyes against the implications of her next words, "this is dated the morning Tim died."

"I know, Cal," he replied, barely above a whisper.

Her teary emerald orbs threatened to tear him apart. "Eric, this—this could be the very last thing Tim did before he died," she said, gently shaking the items in her hands.

Eric wrapped his strong fingers around his best friend's trembling hand, willing her to stay calm. "I know that, Cal…I can't figure it out," he said, brow crinkled. "We were—we were just on our way to watch the video in the A/V lab."

The look in Eric's eye told Calleigh that he needed her there. Cal twisted her hand and squeezed Eric's tightly before she passed him the envelope and its contents.

"Let's go," she said with a subdued smile, turning on her heel to walk down the hall at her partner's side. The walk was silent, save for the blaring sound of the wheels turning in both Eric and Calleigh's minds. What would Tim Speedle have to say, three years after he left them forever?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

"Here," Eric said as he entered the A/V lab and handed Ryan the DVD. The diamond ring was tucked safely in his right pants' pocket.

Calleigh wasn't sure what to think. Two minutes ago she was looking for her co-workers, excited to share some good news about her case. Now, she couldn't even remember what she wanted to tell them. She hid the tremble in her hands remarkably well; she looked the picture of composure on the outside, but on the inside her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

Eric looked at his best friend like he could hear her thunderous heartbeats and Calleigh swallowed hard. She offered him a small smile, but she knew she couldn't fool the man she had known for so many years. Eric reached over quickly and tightly grasped her fingers. One squeeze of her hand and he pulled away. His innocent action, quick as it was, had the immediate desired effect—Calleigh felt a wave of calm wash over her. She took a deep breath and focused her attention on Wolfe, just as he turned to the pair behind him.

"Alright, it's keyed up," he said. Looking to Eric, he added, "Delko, you're sure?"

Eric looked at Calleigh and nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure…I was thinking about it, and Speed was working madly on a project the week he died. He wouldn't let me see it, though. I think this must be it."

Calleigh was only half-listening, and she couldn't meet Eric's eyes as she remembered the rest of that week. She hadn't willingly thought about those days in a long time; instead, they invaded the tranquility of her thoughts every day, uninvited and unrelenting.

Eric and Tim had a falling-out a week before the shooting—if the term 'falling-out' could ever accurately describe what happened. It was more like a free-for-all screaming match. To this day, Calleigh didn't know the cause for the argument, although she had her suspicions. The fight ended as quickly as it began, so it seemed beside the point to ask questions. Delko and Speedle were typical men—duke it out and move on. They were back to normal within hours, Tim sporting a decent shiner on his left eye.

"Cal are you ready?" Eric asked the blonde woman. She was obviously somewhere else, and Eric sent her a funny look when she shook the cobwebs from her head and came back to the present. Calleigh grinned, trying to put him at ease.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm here."

"Alright, here we go," Ryan said as he double-clicked a file on the desktop. A still-frame popped to life on the computer screen and on the large LCD monitor in the center of the room. Before Wolfe could hit the 'play' button, the door to the lab swung open. The three CSIs turned around and were greeted by a curious red-headed lieutenant.

"Gentlemen, Ms. Duquesne. Gathering for the Friday matinee?" he asked with a crooked smirk and a gleam in his eye.

No one smiled at the joke, and that was Horatio's first clue that he had walked in on… _something_. Calleigh looked him in the eye, but for once the seasoned detective could not read the emotions there. He shifted his gaze to Wolfe and Delko. The younger CSI sat nervously in the chair near the A/V equipment, extremely interested in some invisible object across the room. Delko also avoided Horatio's eye, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at his feet. His leg bounced nervously.

That was the give-away. Eric always shook his leg when he was stressed or nervous.

H cleared his throat. "What are we watching?" he queried in the way only Horatio Caine could do. He effectively invited himself to join the party, unobtrusively asserting his authority at the same time.

Ryan handed Delko the manila envelope, and he, in turn, handed it to his boss. Horatio studied it for a moment, at first unsure what he was looking at.

"Delko—September 20th, 2004," he read aloud. Eric, Calleigh, and Ryan knew the instant things clicked for the CSI chief, because his eyes jerked up and bored into those of his brother-in-law.

"Eric?"

The young man sighed heavily and ran a hand over his head. "It's his last video, H," he explained sadly. "He finished it the day he died."

Horatio was speechless, a phenomenon which frightened the trio standing before him. Calleigh watched him closely. _Has Horatio _ever_ been at a loss for words? _she wondered. If so, she'd never witnessed it.

An unspoken question showed in his eyes, and Delko answered. "Wolfe found five boxes of Speed's things in the storage locker. We were going through them and he saw this package," Eric said, indicating the envelope in his LT's hands. "It's addressed to me," he finished quietly.

Horatio looked down at the manila envelope one more time, trying to process what he'd just learned. Tim was like a son to him, and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to face five boxes worth of memories of a man who left him far too soon.

Calleigh noticed the tension knitting H's brow. "If you don't want to watch it with us, Horatio, we'll understand." Eric nodded his assent.

Horatio shook his head. "No, I want to be here. That is, if you don't mind, Eric."

Eric scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"It is your video," the man elaborated.

He hadn't thought about it like that. It _was_ his video, and he had no idea what it contained. Still, he did know that he at least needed Calleigh here to watch it with him. Horatio and Ryan's presence didn't bother him. In fact, Eric kind of enjoyed sharing some of his old stories with Wolfe earlier. He wanted people to know Speedle, what kind of man he was, what kind of friend he was.

"Let's watch it," Eric stated decisively. Ryan turned back to the computer and hit 'play'…


	5. Chapter 5

A/N 1: Alright, no more waiting. Nice, long chapter. I couldn't resist another little cliffhanger. Sorry!

A/N 2: Had some trouble posting this. Hopefully all the kinks are now fixed.

Chapter 5

* * *

_Heya Delko, Speedle here. It's September the 12th, 2004, and in light of this week's events, I'm returning to my documentary phase. With a twist, of course._

Calleigh, Eric and Horatio cracked three identical, nostalgic smiles as their old friend's face appeared on the screen. It was good to hear his voice again.

_The past couple days have been rough for both of us—by the way, your ass is mine next time—but that's one of the reasons I am making this video. Watch it. __All__ of it. You won't listen to what I have to say, so maybe you'll understand when you can __see__ it—the way that everyone else does._

_You mean a lot to me, brother, and I just want the best for you._

Eric was now too nervous to even bounce his leg; he stood frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the screen. As the picture of Tim faded into black, another picture formed in its place. A song played faintly in the background. In an instant, Eric recognized the song and the picture, and he turned abruptly to face Calleigh. She avoided his gaze but couldn't hide the furious blush which had painted her cheeks.

Ryan and Horatio watched the monitor in utter confusion. H prided himself on his ability to know everything that was happening in his lab, but right now he was struggling to connect the dots. As the music continued to play, Eric's mind reeled. _The date, Speed's black eye…_

"No, Calleigh," he said firmly, taking a step forward to stop the video.

Calleigh caught his arm and stopped him in his tracks. The look in her eyes was beseeching. She knew full well what was on this video, now, just as Eric did. But she felt an inexplicable and undeniable urge to keep watching. Eric saw more in her emerald eyes than just a request—he saw pain, and sadness, and…desire? Far in the depths of her eyes, Eric saw desire, and that's what made him step back. A step back, and a step toward Calleigh. Their arms brushed as they continued watching.

Two pictures had passed and a third picture entered the frame. Eric closed his eyes and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. That was one of the happiest days of his life. Exhilaration showed on the young, dark face in the photo, and it was also manifested in the features of the laughing blonde woman sitting next to him. Speedle and Cal had come to his parents' house for Christmas that year, and his creepy cousin Sal kept trying to catch Calleigh under the mistletoe. She was in hysterics as she told Eric about Sal's latest attempt to harangue her, and soon he was laughing just as hard. Speed had captured a candid photo of his two friends, mid-laugh.

The group watched as three more photos passed, keeping in time with the music. Every image was the same: a young Eric and Calleigh completely engrossed in each other, and deliriously happy. Calleigh's eyes watered as she watched the show; she remembered the times she spent with Eric and Tim like they were yesterday. As each photo graced the screen, the ballistics expert became acutely aware of what Tim was documenting. He wanted to show his best friends what they couldn't see—what everyone else noticed almost instantaneously whenever Eric and Calleigh were together.

Suddenly the background music dimmed and a video began to play. It was of a poorer quality than most of Speed's work, and it appeared to have been shot from around a corner. Eric recognized his family home immediately.

'_I'm just asking you to be careful, Cal,'_ his voice sounded on the video. Standing across from him in the deserted hallway, Calleigh crossed her arms in defiance.

'_I'm a big girl, Eric. I can—'_

'—_take care of yourself, I know,'_ Eric interrupted in frustration.

Calleigh sent him an annoyed look. _'He won't hurt me.'_

Eric raised his eyebrows incredulously. _'Calleigh, the man isn't stable. At least—'_

'—_tell Horatio,_' she finished for him, rolling her eyes. _'Fine,'_ she groused, '_but not because you told me to do it. I'm doing it because John needs help.'_

Eric sighed in relief. '_I can live with that.'_ He offered her a half-wattage Delko grin and pulled her into a strong embrace.

The camera panned out and the frame faded to black. The last image they saw was one of Eric holding his best friend close, almost like he could protect her as long as he could keep her in his arms.

Horatio stood silently in the back of the room, internally cheering Tim Speedle for doing something that should have been done a long time ago.

For his part, Ryan Wolfe sat dumbfounded in his seat. He'd always seen the closeness between his two friends, but the intimacy of these photos and videos added a whole new, complicated dimension to the two people standing behind him. He couldn't help but wonder where this project was headed. Speedle had a point— the Eric and Calleigh on film were completely oblivious to the significance of their shared looks. They held each other like it was the most natural thing in the world for two best friends to do. They had no idea they finished each other's sentences or seemed to communicate without words at all.

_The Eric and Calleigh in this room, on the other hand, are rapidly becoming aware of that fact,_ Ryan thought. He bit down on his lips to stop a grin from spreading on his face. Palpable tension radiated from the two bodies behind him, quickly filling the lab from corner to corner.

Another video began to play, this time of the two friends dancing to an up-tempo Latin beat. Ryan had never seen Eric or Calleigh dance before, and he was surprised by how well they moved together. Delko's skill could be attributed to growing up in Little Havana. Calleigh, however, was another story. She was entrancing, and Ryan couldn't take his eyes off her. She moved with all the grace of a Southern belle, but with the sass of a Cuban woman. She never missed a step.

_They look _good_ together, _Ryan realized. It was a strange thought. He saw them every day, hung out with them on the weekends. He'd seen their old photos earlier that afternoon. But something about the way they moved… they fit perfectly, anticipated each other's steps and sways, trusted each other implicitly.

Standing side by side behind Wolfe, Eric and Calleigh saw the same thing. Every fiber of Eric's being told him he needed to stop this, now. Calleigh had just started dating Jake Berkeley, and as much as Eric hated that fact, he had sworn to himself that he would do nothing to jeopardize that relationship. He wanted Calleigh to be happy, and she had chosen Jake.

Jake was the last thing on Calleigh's mind at the moment. She was lost in memories—memories she desperately needed to keep locked away. _But this video…_ Speed was making it very hard for her to forget right now. _Damn him_. _He's not even here and he's still creating chaos in my life_. She peeked over at Eric. _Correction, _she thought with a sigh,_ make that _our_ lives._ The man next to her looked to be in as much turmoil as her right now.

The clip ended and one last photo appeared. Ryan and Eric both recognized the picture from the first stack of developed film they found in the storage room. Calleigh's stomach tightened in sadness as she saw it: Eric grinning ear-to-ear, staring straight into Speedle's lens. Calleigh had one arm strewn over his shoulders, and she was leaning in close to her best friend, kissing him soundly on the cheek. Her eyes were closed, and she just looked…peaceful.

In the present, the petite blonde woman felt sick, because she couldn't actually remember the last time she felt so content, so at peace with herself and with life.

Horatio visibly frowned, although everyone was so wrapped up in the movie that they didn't notice. The lieutenant had not seen his two CSIs—his two friends—that happy in years. Not since Tim's tragic death. He glanced at them and saw that both Eric and Calleigh were fighting back the moisture in their eyes. It was pointless—their red-rimmed lids were fixed that way, betraying their internal struggles for control.

The two happy faces disappeared into the background and Speedle's figure returned.

_If I wanted to, Delko, I could create a seven-hour masterpiece with all the material I have. Lucky for you, I don't have that kind of time. You're probably already pissed as hell at me. That's fine. But I have a few things to say and I will not leave you alone until I have said them._

_You usually help me come up with the titles for my pieces, but I did this one on my own. I have to say, I think it's my best yet_. _So... Sit back, relax—maybe grab a strong drink—and enjoy the rest of the show. _

Speed was grinning mischievously as his face faded away, replaced by the film's opening credits. Eric watched warily as the first lines came and went:

Speedy Productions

A film by Timothy Speedle

Starring Eric Delko and Calleigh Duquesne

Eric was itching to pounce on the computer and stop the feed, but he waited a beat too long. The title finally appeared—artistic and professional, and completely _Tim: _

"The Idiot's Guide to Realizing You're in Love with Your Best Friend"

Wolfe choked on a laugh and ended up coughing for air. _I would have liked this Speedle guy,_ he thought to himself as he wheezed. His poorly disguised entertainment only increased the tension in the room. Horatio had to cover his mouth to hide his own amusement. Calleigh had turned bright red, and Eric looked like he was about to explode.

"Turn it off, Wolfe," he growled.

"No!" Calleigh called. "Don't touch it, Ryan."

Eric turned to look at her in disbelief. "Cal, you can't be serious!"

"I am, Eric," she sighed. "We've already started this, and, let's face it, there's nothing in this film that Ryan and Horatio don't already know."

She sounded resigned to the fact, but also a little relieved to be able to admit it. Eric felt the opposite.

"You don't know that, Calleigh," he said, his voice dipping dangerously low, eyes locked onto his best friend's. "You have no idea what's on this DVD."

Calleigh got the message, and she felt suddenly uncomfortable. She and Eric hadn't talked about the events leading up to Speed's death since they happened. To do so now…it was hard. _Maybe I don't want to forget anymore_.

Calleigh's breath caught in her chest at that thought. _Where the _hell_ did that come from?_ she asked herself in a panic. She panicked even more when she realized she already knew the answer: it came from the same part of her that wanted to keep watching this video. Her green eyes sought Eric's brown ones once more, and they shared an intense look that conveyed countless unspoken words.

"We can turn it off any time, okay, Eric?"

The tall Cuban man did not miss the hitch in Calleigh's breath or the tiny tremble in her voice as she spoke. Something in his chest roared to life as he began to see that Cal was affected by these old memories just as much as he was.

She hadn't just _not forgotten. S_he still _thought_ about it.

He studied her face for a moment before he gave up trying to resist, uttering "what the hell" under his breath. Ryan, who had paused the movie and shifted to watch the intriguing scene unfold between Eric and Calleigh, turned back around and pressed 'play.' The title screen was quickly vanishing, giving way to another one of Tim's monologues.

_Eric, you've given me reason after reason for why you can't be with Calleigh._

Eric groaned. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.

_And as much as I tell you it's all a load of bunk, you __never listen__. Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. Or perhaps you're just __that__ dense._ _I guess I will have to spell it out for you._

Eric rolled his eyes and Calleigh giggled. He motioned to the screen. "How is this funny, Calleigh?"

Any amusement still left in the room vanished with his frustrated words. Calleigh threw her hands in the air and gave an angry sigh. "What else am I supposed to do, Eric? Cry?" She turned away from him a little to face the screen again, adding quietly, "I've done enough of that already."

Eric's stomach dropped at the hurt in Calleigh's voice. Ryan and Horatio couldn't hear her last comment, and Eric thanked God for small favors. He was slowly realizing that Calleigh wasn't okay. _He_ wasn't okay, and their friendship certainly wasn't. His mind was screaming. _We should have talked, we should have taken some time, should have—should have done _something_! Anything!_

Tim Speedle's voice pulled him out of the painful pit into which he was quickly descending.

…_assembled a video guidebook of sorts to help you see the light._

Speed's face disappeared and a series of pictures flashed across the screen, beginning slowly and gradually gaining speed until they became a blur. Each picture was unique, and all of them featured Eric and Calleigh. There must have been dozens.

The blur morphed into another title screen: _Part One: A New Kind of Top Ten._

Calleigh smiled, and this time Eric smiled with her. Calleigh, Eric, and Tim were constantly playing the 'top ten' game. They'd be relaxing in the break room before their shift, and Speedle would call out, "Top Ten Most Useless Body Parts," or, "Top Ten Ways to Kill a Cat." (Calleigh had lectured him harshly for that one; she loved her cat, Cubano).

At the end of a long day, Eric would groan: "Top Ten Reasons This Case Sucked." One day Calleigh watched Speedle talking to a woman by the reception desk. When he came back with wounded pride and no phone number, she quipped, "Top Ten Ways to Strike Out?" He'd glared at her and stalked off.

Now he sat, alive and well, in front of his friends on a giant television monitor, coming up with yet another list.

_I know we decided our last list couldn't be topped, but this one definitely beats the top-ten Horatio one-liners._

Eric and Calleigh had the decency to blush. They cautiously turned their heads to look at their boss, and were relieved to find him grinning. In fact, he laughed out loud. "I'll have to hear that one sometime," he said, eyes twinkling. The two CSIs let out deep breaths.

Speedle continued. _I present to you…_a drum-roll sounded… _The Top Ten Signs Eric Delko is in Love with His Best Friend._

"Don't, Eric," Calleigh murmured with a smile. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and smiled wider when she saw that she was right: Eric was already on his way to shut off the video when she stopped him.

He was truly baffled. How could she stand there smiling at him? Calleigh was _okay_ with this. S_he's not the one being humiliated right now_, Eric complained to himself. After everything they had been through, after the distance that had come between them since Tim's death, and especially now that she was dating another man—Calleigh should not be standing there smiling. She should be upset, or sad, or angry, but not… whatever the hell she was.

Eric bit his tongue and let the movie play. The fact that neither Horatio nor Wolfe were fazed by the contents of this video intensified his growing anger. He felt like a fool in front of his co-workers. Tim had caused enough problems trying to interfere with his life while he still walked the earth, and here he was doing it all over again. Calleigh—Eric just didn't understand how this wasn't bothering her. _How can she look at this and not have her heart ripped out of her chest? Maybe she didn't ever care._

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, however, Eric banished it. The tears in his best friend's eyes told him everything he needed to know. Calleigh did care. She cared too much, and that was the problem. That was always their problem.

_Number Ten_, Speed said, smiling at Eric from the past. _You cancel all your weekend plans because she says she _might _need a ride to the airport on Saturday._

Eric's cheeks flamed as Calleigh whipped her head around to gawk at him. "Eric, you said you were going to the Keys the _next _weekend!" She couldn't believe he had done that for her. How many chances did he get to spend a weekend on the beach with his college buddies, on somebody else's dime?

"So I lied," he said with a crooked grin and a shrug of his shoulders. A look of confusion crossed Eric's face as he watched three pictures fill the screen: one of him and Jeff Corwin wrestling an alligator in the Everglades; one of Eric, Jeff, and Calleigh covered in mud and grinning at the camera; and one of Calleigh smiling sweetly at wildlife expert, absorbed in conversation and unaware of their audience.

Speed's voice served as a backdrop to the photos. _Number Nine: You didn't answer Corwin's calls for a week after he asked Cal out on a date._

"Eric, you didn't!" Calleigh exclaimed disapprovingly. She pinned him with a glare.

Delko put his hands up in defense. "You didn't even know the guy!"

"Isn't that the point of dating? Besides, he's one of your oldest friends! If I can't trust your friends, they shouldn't _be_ your friends."

_She's right, _he admitted begrudgingly…Eric was saved a real reply by two loud shushes from Horatio and Wolfe. Eric and Calleigh both looked at them incredulously.

"We missed the next one!" Ryan explained earnestly. He moved the mouse and scrolled the video back thirty seconds.

…_on a date. Sign Number Eight: You hate half the food in your refrigerator, but you re-stock it regularly just in case Calleigh comes over._

That was true, about the groceries. Cal never said anything about it, but he knew she appreciated the gesture. She did spend an awful lot of time at his condo, and he at hers…so really, it just made sense.

Eric grinned at a picture of him and Calleigh attacking different ends of a massive sub sandwich. Another picture floated to the foreground of the two best friends, standing in Calleigh's kitchen and covered from head to toe in flour. Eric chuckled when he heard her groan; their little food fight took three hours to clean.

_Sign Number Seven: Your ears perk up every time you hear a pair of heels coming down the hallway._

"They do not!" Eric said.

Calleigh wasn't sure about that one, but Ryan and Horatio both responded, "Yes, they do." She burst into laughter. She was still laughing as Tim started speaking again.

_Number Six: She's the only woman you've ever brought home._

The laughter stopped. Calleigh's eyes studied Eric's face, and she didn't have to ask him if that was true. She could see that it was. A string of ten or twelve pictures came into view, one after another, each filled with tons of dark-haired people and one striking blonde.

In the seven some-odd years she had known Eric Delko, she'd spent six-and-a-half of them visiting his family once every one or two months. Tim used to go to the family get-togethers with her, but now she went alone. It seemed so natural—she never thought about the fact that Eric rarely let others see that part of his life. The time she'd spent with Eric and his family suddenly took on a new meaning.

_Number Five: You are more than just "best friends"—_Speedle formed his fingers into quotation marks to emphasize his words—_when you knock a guy on his ass for grabbing __her__ ass._

"What?" Horatio piped up from his perch to their left. He hadn't heard about that, and it sounded like Delko should be grateful he wasn't reprimanded by the department.

"He had it coming," Calleigh said lightly, winking at Eric. They shared a secret smile but found it difficult to maintain eye contact for too long.

_Sign Number Four: You never let Calleigh go first at a crime scene, but when it's the two of __us__, you're more than willing to let me take the first bullet._

Silence. He was obviously kidding, hinting at Eric's protective streak when it came to CSI's resident ballistics expert. _If he only knew_, Eric thought as his gut wrenched with pain. _If he only knew…_

A stubborn tear escaped from Calleigh's lashes, but she swiped it away quickly. Speedle was joking about dying just days before he was killed, and the joke that might once have been funny was now just a harsh reminder that he was gone forever. Watching the rest of the film didn't seem so important anymore.

Horatio said nothing. He pulled a stool over and sat down heavily, feeling the weight of the years on his shoulders. Feeling the loss.

_Number Three…_

Hearing Speed's voice, seeing him a live again—H could understand completely how Eric had hallucinations about their friend, and _he_ couldn't even blame it on a bullet fragment in his brain.

… _Calleigh is the only one who knows what happened the night of your car crash in college. She's the only one that knows why you hate heights, why you carry a St. Christopher's medal in your pocket every day, why the cases with kids bug you the most. She's the first person you call when you need to talk, always._

That was true, even now. Eric met Calleigh's eyes and watched another tear spill onto her cheek. She gave a choked laugh and looked up at the ceiling, wiping away the tear like it was no big deal. But it was a big deal. Eric told her things that no one else on this earth knew. On the monitor above, at least two dozen photographs of Calleigh and Eric danced in and out of the frame, in time with the music—photos of the pair sitting by themselves and talking, chatting as they walked down a beach, holding a conversation in a corner away from everyone else. All of them were the same.

Eric was starting to get a bad feeling about the last two points on the top-ten list—not that he didn't already feel like his privacy was torn to shreds. His entire life was currently laid open for others to view, and he was beyond uncomfortable. Even with Calleigh, because although he knew _she_ knew nearly everything Speedle had said, the two friends never verbalized those things. Ever. That was dangerous territory. But the unsettled feeling did not improve with the second-to-last item on the list (especially since Tim was becoming more adamant with every point he made).

_Sign Number Two: You slept outside Calleigh's house for a week after Hank Kerner threatened to kill her, even when we caught him and sent him back to prison._

Yet again, Calleigh found herself looking to Eric for an explanation, brows furrowed in confusion and just a little awe. "Eric, you never said…"

The man met her gaze. "I had to make sure," Eric confessed, ducking his head. "You were already worried enough." He left it at that. Tears filled her eyes and he saw that she understood. That week was terrifying for Calleigh. Not only was her life threatened by a ruthless killer, but she lost one of her closest friends to that same man. On top of everything else, John Hagen wouldn't give her two feet of room to work through it all.

She'd mentioned to Eric that Hagen was invading some of her personal space. That was the start of her best friend's dislike of the detective, and it wasn't unwarranted. She could admit that in retrospect.

While John was in her face, Eric was protecting her all along and she never knew.

She never had to tell Eric when she needed him to back off. Most of the time Calleigh felt like she needed him to be there for her _more_, because he was the only one who could see straight through her walls. He could shatter them in an instant if he wanted to, but he chose not to out of respect for her. He knew when to give her space, and he knew when to push.

After everything that happened around the time Tim died, Calleigh feared she might lose that connection with her best friend. But Eric was still here, and he still knew how to let her make her own decisions. The only problem was, sometimes she wanted him to make up her mind for her, but she couldn't tell him that.

Eric and Calleigh returned their attention to the video just in time to see Speed's face come back into view.

_Finally, the Number One Sign that you are an Idiot—_Speed stopped himself and laughed at his own blunder—_I mean, the Number One Sign That You're in Love with Your Best Friend…are you ready? Here it comes…_

Eric could hear the sarcasm dripping from Speedle's words and dreaded what he was about to say next. He told himself that it couldn't be that bad, but the voice in his head sounded far more confident than the noise of his erratic heartbeat. Speed crossed his arms and fixed the camera with a hard glare that Eric swore he could feel.

_If Calleigh was just your best friend, one night of making love to her would be enough. But it's not, is it?_

Wolfe was damn grateful he hadn't fallen out of his chair. Horatio—omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient Horatio—found himself in much the same position. Apparently he really _didn't_ know everything that went on in his lab.

Eric didn't have time to be shocked. He had no time to swear he would kill Tim Speedle if he wasn't already dead. There was no time to check and make sure Calleigh was okay. Because everything went to hell in a matter of seconds.

The words were barely out of Speedle's mouth when a new image took over the frame. It was another video, shot across a loud bar. In the middle of the scene were none other than Eric and Calleigh, sitting in a corner booth that, until two minutes ago, had held three people. The music playing in the bar blended perfectly into the background music of Tim's so-called documentary; it was the same song, and he had arranged the measures to transition perfectly from one scene to the next, to carry them from one reality to another on one note.

Except for the sounds from the video, the room was dead silent, so when Eric uttered a soft 'shit,' it went off like a cannon in the still air.

Calleigh was mortified. There was no taking this back. "Eric…" she drew out his name fearfully as she took in the scene at the bar, heard the music. She knew what happened next, and so did Eric.

They lunged at the same time. Wolfe was shoved aside roughly as Calleigh made a mad grab for the mouse. Delko reached for the keyboard and desperately hit the 'escape' button. Nothing happened.

He hit the button again and again. Calleigh clicked all over the screen. Nothing. "Wolfe! Stop this thing, _now_!" Eric almost bellowed.

Ryan wasn't listening. It was too late anyway. Up on the lab's oversized LCD monitor, blazing for all the world to see, the man and woman at the center of the screen had moved impossibly closer. They leaned in, and they kissed.

They kissed, and…kept kissing.

Calleigh heard Eric cursing under his breath again and again. She looked up at the screen and wished she could be _anywhere_ but here right now. She should have listened to Eric.

"Wolfe!" Delko was yelling again. "For Christ's sake," he growled when he realized Ryan was a lost cause, wide eyes glued to the monitor and mouth gaping. Coming around the desk, Eric just started unplugging every cord he could find. When he finally heard the music stop, he knew he'd found the right one.

If only the hits had stopped with the video feed…

When Delko straightened up behind the lab table, he saw four people staring back at him with various degrees of shock and embarrassment written on their faces. Ryan and Calleigh stood to his immediate left and right across the desk. Horatio sat numbly on a stool to Eric's right, halfway between the table and the door.

And, just inside that door, hovering silently in the back as everyone watched the screen in front of them, stood a very resigned Jake Berkeley.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Okay, I battled with myself over how to develop Jake in this story. I think his character has the potential to go both ways. So what did I finally decide? Read on, my friends.

Chapter 6

* * *

Jake had come to the lab in search of Horatio. At first, he had walked past the A/V lab, thinking that H would probably be in his office. _What the—_Jake thought as something caught his eye. He stopped mid-stride to watch the large LCD monitor in the middle of the lab.

Horatio, Wolfe, Delko and Calleigh were watching the TV intently. A man Berkeley didn't recognize was currently speaking, although he couldn't hear what was being said. Suddenly, the screen faded to black and picture after picture began to fill the frame. All of them were of Calleigh and Delko. _That_ certainly caught Jake's attention. As stealthily as possible, he opened the door to the lab and stood hidden in the back corner. No one noticed his entrance.

_'I'm just asking you to be careful, Cal,'_ Jake heard Eric's voice on the video.

_'I'm a big girl, Eric. I can—'_

_'—take care of yourself, I know.'_

_'He won't hurt me.'_

_'Calleigh, the man isn't stable. At least—'_

_'—tell Horatio,'_ Cal said, rolling her eyes. _'Fine, but not because you told me to do it. I'm doing it because John needs help.'_

The man on screen sighed in relief. _'I can live with that,'_ he said before pulling Calleigh into a fierce hug.

In the back of the lab, Berkeley fidgeted uncomfortably. He'd known nothing of his girlfriend's past relationships. In fact, she'd refused to tell him, and her unwillingness to talk about it had put a serious strain on their own relationship. Here stood Calleigh with Eric, however, and he not only knew the finer details of her dating life, but he was actually inserting himself into the situation, and she was letting him. That stung.

The more Jake watched, the more he realized what he'd known all along: Calleigh had never belonged to him. All the photographs, the way the pair moved across the dance floor—anyone with half a brain could see that Cal's heart was taken a long time ago.

The scruffy-looking man with the black eye returned: _If I wanted to, Delko, I could create a seven-hour masterpiece with all the material I have. Lucky for you, I don't have that kind of time. You're probably already pissed as hell at me. That's fine. But I have a few things to say and I will not leave you alone until I have said them._

_You usually help me come up with the titles for my pieces, but I did this one on my own. I have to say, I think it's my best yet. So... Sit back, relax—maybe grab a strong drink—and enjoy the rest of the show. _

The opening credits began to play and suddenly Jake understood what this was all about. '_A film by Timothy Speedle.' Speedle._ _Of course. Who else would have the balls to tell Delko to get his shit together?_

Calleigh never talked about Tim Speedle. Neither did Eric or Horatio. Out of curiosity, Berkeley started asking around the department one day. Everyone who remembered Speedle told him the same thing: "He was an outstanding CSI, little rough around the edges," or "Delko, Duquesne, and Speedle—those three were inseparable," or "that team's never been the same, just as good, but never the same."

When the detective asked Frank Tripp about Speedle, the man's face instantly hardened. _'Why do you want to know?'_ he'd asked. Jake was surprised by his reaction and asked if he'd crossed some sort of line. Frank just sighed and said, _'No. But be careful who you go askin' questions, alright? It damn near killed Eric and Calleigh when he died. Horatio, too, if you looked hard enough.'_ And that's all he would say.

Now Jake was slowly beginning to understand why Calleigh never talked to him about her friend. He was so much _more_ than a friend. Tim was a brother to Calleigh, and Delko, too.

A commotion in front of him drew Jake out of his reverie. _Damn, I missed what happened_. Something in the video had caused Eric to get angry. He obviously wanted to shut it off, but Calleigh wouldn't let him.

"Cal, you can't be serious!"

"I am, Eric! We've already started this, and, let's face it, there's nothing in this film that Ryan and Horatio don't already know."

"You don't know that, Calleigh. You have no idea what's on this DVD," Delko warned.

Something in his voice caught Jake's attention, and he surreptitiously studied the two CSIs' faces. The Cuban man wasn't talking generics, and whatever he _was_ talking about, Calleigh knew exactly what it was. Her face turned an appealing shade of pink.

"We can turn it off any time, okay, Eric?" she conceded quietly. Jake's heart clenched as his last vestige of hope disappeared. Calleigh wanted to watch this film. She wanted to hear what Speedle had to say.

Wolfe pressed 'play.' _Eric, you've given me reason after reason for why you can't be with Calleigh…_ Jake tuned out for a while, not sure he really wanted to hear all this.

… _I present to you: The Top Ten Signs Eric Delko is in Love with His Best Friend. _

It hurt to hear the words spoken out loud. It hurt to see Delko stand there next to Calleigh and not deny that all of it was true. Most of all, it hurt to see Calleigh stand there like none of this was news to her. He couldn't be upset, because he knew. Hell, he'd confronted her about it already. Jake knew all along that Cal was holding on to something—someone—from her past, and he had guessed that someone was Delko. He just didn't want to admit it. Jake couldn't be upset about finally knowing the truth, but it still hurt like hell.

The man sighed as more pictures of Eric and Calleigh crossed the screen. He'd never seen Calleigh look so happy, not even at the Academy. He wanted to make her that happy, but he didn't know how. Only one man in this room was capable of doing that for this woman, and his name wasn't Jake Berkeley.

Ten, nine, eight… Speedle listed sign after sign that Delko was in love with Calleigh. The tension slowly built in the room—and in Berkeley's stomach— as the countdown neared the end.

_Finally, the Number One Sign that you are an Idiot…I mean, the Number One Sign That You're in Love with Your Best Friend…are you ready? Here it comes… _

Jake held his breath.

_If Calleigh was just your best friend, one night of making love to her would be enough. But it's not, is it? _

Whatever Jake was expecting, that was NOT it. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Everything made so much sense, now, and he kicked himself for not figuring it out sooner. He could have saved both he and Calleigh a lot of stress and heartache. _Damn it all!_ Jake was screaming in his head. _Just, damn it!_

The room exploded into chaos in a matter of seconds. The last thing Jake registered in his mind before the tumult began was an image of Eric and Calleigh kissing… _really_ kissing. All the steam went out of him in a rush as he watched Calleigh fall into her best friend, watched her kiss him like he was the last person she'd ever need.

Suddenly, the detective became aware of a pair of shocked brown eyes boring into his own. _Shit._

Calleigh could do nothing but watch helplessly as Eric unplugged every last cord from the equipment. She hadn't had a panic attack since high school, but the ballistics expert could feel the overwhelming tightness building in her chest. Her hands shook, and she fought to catch her breath.

She tried frantically to catch Eric's eye as he stood up, but his attention was immediately drawn to something in the back of the room. Calleigh turned to see the source of Eric's surprise and nearly died of shame. Jake didn't deserve this.

Horatio was watching his CSIs like hawks from the moment they dove toward the computer. Now, he followed their line of sight to the back corner. When he saw who, exactly, was standing there, the red-head chuckled to himself. _This just keeps getting better._

Wolfe was the last one to notice Berkeley, and this time he nearly _did_ fall out of his chair. _Should I call security?_ he wondered.

There was no need.

Jake took a step forward, eyes trained on Calleigh—whose eyes were fixed firmly on the ground in front of her. He could see the embarrassment and remorse painted on her cheeks in red.

"Cal?" Jake asked softly. She slowly raised her head to meet his gaze with her watery eyes.

"Jake—" she began with a shaky voice.

"Don't, babe." Calleigh was instantly confused. Jake genuinely did not sound upset—after everything she had put him through in the last week. In fact, he sounded almost…happy?

"I get it now," he said with a sad smile. "I understand. You were talking about Delko, weren't you?"

Now Calleigh understood, too. Jake wasn't happy to find out that the woman he'd dated for the last two months was in love with her best friend. But he _was_ happy to finally understand why Calleigh had acted the way she did.

"It's not that I didn't care for you, Jake," the woman uttered softly, taking a step toward him.

"I know," he said, this time letting a grin spread across his face. Jake _knew_ that Calleigh cared for him. She was not the type of woman to jerk a man around or play games. "I just wish you'd been honest with me, Cal. It would have been easier on both of us."

_If only it was that simple. _Calleigh just nodded, thinking back to last weekend…

FLASHBACK

Jake wrapped his arm more firmly around Calleigh's shoulders as they walked back to her apartment from eating dinner. She leaned into his embrace, and they walked together in companionable silence until they reached her front door. Calleigh was digging for her keys in her purse when she felt a pair of strong arms encircle her waist, and a pair of lips nuzzling her neck.

"Jake," she laughed. "Cut it out. I'm trying to find my keys."

A single hand reached down and deftly snatched the elusive keys from her handbag. "What, you mean these keys?" he said playfully.

Calleigh smirked and grabbed them from his hand, quickly unlocking the door and pulling out of Jake's embrace to walk into the apartment. Jake, for his part, sighed in frustration.

She heard the sigh and silently cursed herself for pulling away, yet again. He'd been so patient with her, but tonight it seemed like his patience had run out.

"Why, Cal? Just tell me what I'm doing wrong!" Jake asked angrily as he entered the foyer behind her. He let the door fall shut with a bang.

Calleigh turned to face her boyfriend, an apologetic look written on her face. "Jake, I'm sorry. I'm just—ugh!" She threw her hands up in the air in frustration, whipping around to lean her hands on the kitchen island.

Jake came up behind her and placed a gentle hand on her back, grateful when she didn't flinch. He wasn't totally oblivious to why Calleigh refused to let him in, why she was so cagey. Every time he reached for her, she got this haunted look in her eye. She tried, honestly. But he knew something was keeping her back, keeping her from loving him.

Soon after they started dating, Jake asked her to go to Aruba with him, and she'd come up with some lame excuse about how Horatio was leaving town and needed her at the lab. Jake knew Horatio would only be gone two days, but he said nothing. Then, a week later, he'd tried to take things a little further before he left for the night. Calleigh effectively freaked out. Her reaction surprised both of them, and Jake ended up going home wondering if all of this was a mistake. The next day at work, Calleigh apologized and told him she just needed to take things slow. So they had…achingly so.

Jake was okay with slow. Calleigh was worth it. But two months? Two months of dating and Cal still kicked him out the door if he tried to cop a feel. It wasn't like they'd never had sex before; they had dated for five months—a crazy, intense five months—at the police academy. Jake was confused, and concerned.

"We could be incredible together, Calleigh," he said hoarsely. "But you need to talk to me."

Calleigh sighed and turned in his arms. "I don't know what to say, Jake," she said tearfully.

"Somehow, I don't think that's true."

Game up. She didn't know how he knew, but he did. She watched his face for a moment before ducking her head under the intensity of his gaze. Wordlessly, she tugged his hand and led him to sit at the dining room table.

"I—I know I've been pushing you away. I'm sorry," Calleigh began after a minute. "It's just been…a long time since I was with anyone."

"Cal, you're not afraid of being with someone again," Jake responded in exasperation. "You're afraid of being with _me_. So don't give me some half-assed excuse. Tell me what's going on."

Anger flashed in Calleigh's eyes at Jake's demanding tone, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She just didn't know if telling him _why_ he was right was the best thing to do. If she confessed, their relationship was over. But then again, she guessed it was over if she didn't explain, so she might as well. She didn't really understand it, herself, to be completely honest.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block the images that were assaulting her memory. She'd never talked about this with anyone, and it was tearing her apart to do it now. A solitary tear escaped her lashes and streamed down her cheek.

"None of this is fair to you, Jake," Calleigh said as she opened her eyes to meet his. "I'm so sorry. I didn't—I didn't know I would react like this."

Jake nodded, encouraging her to continue. She looked away from him as she spoke again. "It's been three years," she shrugged, "and I can't let it go."

"Let what go?" he asked quietly.

Cal wouldn't answer. She pursed her lips and shook her head, unable to give him what he wanted. Two more tears escaped, and she wiped them away tiredly. "I'm not the same person I was when we dated before, Jake."

"Neither of us are, babe. We've grown up, had other relationships. But—" He was about to say, 'But I don't see how that keeps us from being together,' when he caught the look in Calleigh's eye and stopped mid-sentence.

Calleigh didn't just mean that she had changed. She meant that _someone_ had changed her. Someone with whom Jake could never compete, even if the man was now just a memory.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "This isn't going to work, is it?"

She shook her head sadly and whispered, "No. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Cal. You haven't done anything wrong." Jake's words sounded so convincing he almost believed them himself. "Just do me a favor… figure things out before you start dating someone else, okay?"

She'd hurt him, badly. Calleigh knew that. And she knew she couldn't do anything to take back what she'd done.

"Hey," Jake said, standing up and bringing Calleigh with him. He wrapped her in a warm hug. "Don't beat yourself up. It's like you said, you had no idea you'd react this way. I'm grateful for the last two months, Cal."

Calleigh pulled him tighter as she choked out a teary laugh. "You shouldn't be so nice to me."

"Sure I should," he smiled. "We're still friends, Cal. Don't forget that."

He felt her nod against his neck. "Thank you," she murmured. "You're a good man, Jake." She pulled back and met his eyes, trying to convey how much she really did care for him, if not in the way he hoped.

"I know," he winked. Calleigh noticed his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Bye, Cal," Jake said, leaning down to place one last, tender kiss to her lips. She kissed him back, and when they parted they went as friends. Friends with a history, but friends nonetheless.

Cal watched as Jake grabbed his leather jacket and walked out the door for the last time. Then she collapsed on the couch and wept until she fell asleep. On Monday morning, Calleigh walked into work with a smile on her face, pretending as she did every day that everything was good and right in her world.

END FLASHBACK

Standing in the A/V lab and seeing the look on Calleigh's face, Jake realized that Eric Delko was not just a memory for his former girlfriend. She worked with him every day, spent time with him outside the lab. And it tortured her. From the look on Delko's face, it caused him just as much anguish. The funny thing was, Jake had seen those looks on their faces a thousand times, and he never guessed their real cause.

_What the _hell_ kind of mess have they gotten themselves into_? Jake wondered. He hated to see Calleigh in so much pain. And as much as he wished he could hate Delko, he was actually a stand up guy, and Jake wouldn't wish this kind of torment on anyone. Being that close to the woman you love day in and day out… _Delko must have some kind of inhuman strength… damn._

Berkeley closed the distance between him and Calleigh and wrapped her in a tight hug. "We're good, Cal. I promise," he whispered in her ear. "Talk to him, okay?"

Calleigh was in awe. She never expected such graciousness from this man. The Jake Berkeley she knew was all ego and testosterone, but the man hugging her was kind and selfless. "Why are you doing this, Jake?" she whispered back as he pulled away.

He just shrugged and said with a wink, "You and I both know we never had a chance. I can't be mad. I want you to be happy."

And although she wasn't sure of the chances of that happening, Calleigh smiled and pulled him into another quick hug. "Thank you."

Before Jake left the lab he stepped past his ex-girlfriend and extended a hand to a bewildered Eric Delko. The two men grasped hands and locked eyes as an unspoken message passed between them. _Don't screw this up, you idiot,_ Berkeley seemed to say. Eric nodded, still shocked, and simply shook his hand. With that, Jake turned and left the room, never acknowledging Ryan or Horatio.

Eric was speechless as he watched Berkeley walk away. Any animosity he'd ever felt for the man was gone the instant they shook hands, and now he didn't know what he felt. The fact that he had no clue what had just passed between the detective and his best friend didn't help. _Talk about cryptic_, he thought.

Calleigh seemed to be regaining some of her composure. Slowly she turned around and pegged the three men with a steely glare. "Nothing, _nothing_, leaves this room." She knew she didn't have to tell them that, but it needed to be on the record.

"I'm not…sure I really understood any of it anyway," Ryan admitted, looking nervously at Horatio.

The lieutenant had garnered little more from the conversation than Wolfe. "Ms. Duquesne?" he asked, seeking some kind of explanation. Eric finally rejoined the conversation upon Horatio's question, interested in hearing the answer.

Calleigh looked around the room at the three men before her. This was no time for nervousness or hesitation, so she answered point blank. "We broke up last Saturday. Horatio—"

"Save it, Calleigh," her boss said kindly. "You didn't invite your personal life into the office. It invaded. I'm not worried about your professionalism. Like you said, nothing leaves this room."

She managed to murmur a quiet 'thanks,' then the room went silent. Eric was still processing Calleigh's words. _We broke up last Saturday._

"Eric. Eric!" Horatio was calling his name. When he finally caught the man's attention, he said, "I suggest you make an early weekend of it. Perhaps a long one…I don't want either of you back here until you've worked this out."

The time for denial was past. The ability to pretend, to put on a pretty face and act like everything was okay, no longer existed for Calleigh or Eric. They couldn't hide from each other, and they could no longer hide from the other two men in the room. Eric couldn't decide if he was more humiliated or grateful. He met Calleigh's eyes for a split second before he answered quietly, "Alright, H."

Calleigh mimicked Eric's response, then turned her eyes back to her best friend. "I'll meet you downstairs." She couldn't bring herself to look at Ryan as she quickly left the lab.

As soon as she was gone, Eric spun on his heel and traversed the few steps to the swivel chair, where he collapsed with his head in his hands. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." That's all he could say, and he didn't care that he wasn't alone. Suddenly he shot out of the chair and stared wide-eyed at his brother-in-law, gesturing wildly as he asked, "Horatio, what am I supposed to do?"

H sighed. He could handle drug busts and shootouts and crooked cops any day of the week, but Eric and Calleigh? That wasn't exactly on his resume. He'd had plenty of experience in complicated affairs of the heart, so at least he could draw on some of that to help Eric. One of Horatio's biggest regrets was not telling Yelina how he felt when he had the chance, and one of the happiest times of his life had come from letting go with Marisol.

"Tell her how you feel, Eric."

The younger man scoffed. "It's not that simple, H!"

A quiet voice sounded from behind him. "Yeah, it is, Eric. It's exactly that simple." Eric had completely forgotten about Ryan, and he twisted around to face the man.

"What?"

Wolfe was dead serious, and the tone of his voice dared Eric to contradict him. "Delko, I've _never_ seen two people love each other as much as the two people in that video. From what you've told me, Speedle knew you and Calleigh better than anyone. Go home, watch the rest of the DVD, and _talk to Calleigh_." He shoved the disc into his friend's hand and turned him on the spot, giving him a little shove toward the door.

Eric tossed Horatio a pleading look, but he just raised his hands in defense. "You heard the man," H said with a crooked smile. So Eric rolled his eyes and obeyed, taking a deep breath as he walked out the door of the A/V lab to face his future.

Ryan shot a glance toward his boss. "Did all of that _really_ just happen?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, Mr. Wolfe," Horatio answered with a gleam in his eye, "I believe it just did."

"Are you going to start looking for two new CSIs?" the younger man asked nervously. Because in all seriousness, they were playing with fire, and there was a very real possibility that one of their friends might not come back on Monday.

Horatio had known Eric and Calleigh longer than his counterpart, and he was much more confident in their ability to resolve the situation. "They'll do the right thing, Ryan. You'll see." He smiled secretly and took his leave.

Wolfe stood all alone in the A/V lab, wondering when the hell the world had turned upside down, and dreading having to fix all the equipment left behind by Hurricane Eric. He sighed and set to work on the mangled cords, thinking all the while about the things he'd witnessed in the last twenty minutes. One single line ran on repeat through his mind:

_If Calleigh was just your best friend, one night of making love to her would be enough. But it's not, is it? _

Yeah. So maybe this was a little complicated…


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, folks. Sorry for the reprieve. My friends and family conspired with my wonderful, amazing boss to turn my one week vacation into a month-long, much-needed escape! No computers allowed. They said nothing about my notebook. Thus, I have sneaked (have snuck?) off to an internet cafe to upload some of the chapters I've been working on while I soaked up the sun. I'll update again when I can. R&R!

P.S. This one is all Ryan and Natalia. Sorry for any mistakes, I'm trying to type fast.

Chapter 7

* * *

_Where the hell is he?_ Natalia wondered as she paced the locker room. She'd been waiting for Wolfe for almost fifteen minutes now, and he was still a no-show. She hadn't seen Calleigh or Eric, either. _Maybe they're working on something last minute. I should go back upstairs._

When Nat disembarked from the elevator on the sixth floor, however, her three colleagues were still nowhere to be seen. _Alright, I know I've been out in the field all afternoon, but where is everyone _else_?_

Trace—no. A/V—no. DNA—no. QD—no. Fingerprints—no. She hadn't seen them in reception, she'd passed by Horatio's office and no one was there, and she didn't spy them in the hallways, either. Finally, she thought to search for Wolfe in the storage room where he'd been holed up for the last couple weeks.

_Bingo!_ Nat thought as she poked her head around the door. "Ryan." The man sat on a stool, elbows leaning on the lab table and chin resting in his hands. He didn't even budge when Natalia called his name, so she called again. "Ry." Nothing.

Taking a step inside the door, Natalia tried one last time, this time almost shouting. "Ryan!"

He whipped around like she'd blown a foghorn in his ear. "What? Geez, Natalia! What did I ever do to you?"

Nat would have laughed at his skiddishness if she weren't so concerned by the look on his face. "Ryan, I called your name three times. What's going on? You look stressed."

_That's an understatement,_ Ryan thought. "What time is it?" he asked, attempting to throw the attention off of him and into safer territory. After what he'd been through that afternoon, Ryan knew he'd have a hard time acting normally, and the last thing he needed was Natalia asking him about his strange behavior.

"It's almost seven," Natalia said suspiciously. She was a CSI, dammit, and she knew evasion when she saw it.

Ryan's eyebrows flew upward. "Are you serious?" He glanced at his own wristwatch to verify. _6:52_. He'd been in here for nearly two hours. Sitting, doing nothing. Well, thinking.

Natalia was surprised that her friend was so out of sorts. She glanced around the room, and it looked almost exactly the same as it did several hours ago. _What has he been doing this whole time?_ she wondered, choosing to keep her question to herself for the time being. Something was going on, but she trusted Wolfe to tell her if and when he wanted to.

Ryan noted Natalia's appraisal of the storage room and nervously realigned the file boxes on the lab table. He could see the concern on her face and knew she suspected something. _Maybe if I give her a little information, she won't think anything of it…_

Natalia offered him the perfect opportunity. "Is that all you have left?"

"Yeah, it is. Actually," Ryan said, gently removing the lid of the first box so Nat could peer inside, "we haven't quite decided what to do with them yet."

"We?" she asked as she looked at the contents of the box. Ryan returned the lid before the woman had a chance to become too curious.

"Well, I should say that Horatio, Eric, and Calleigh haven't decided what to do with them yet. These, uh, apparently belonged to Tim Speedle."

Natalia's jaw dropped open. "What?"

Ryan simply nodded. "Oh, wow. And they've seen these boxes? All of them?"

"Yep." A little white lie couldn't hurt, could it?

"Hmm. Well, that's interesting," Natalia murmured, more to herself than to Ryan. She stood in contemplation for a moment before turning to him, "So if you're done, why are you still in here?"

_Good question_. Wolfe offered her a bright smile and a wink, saying, "It was just so hard to say goodbye…"

Natalia laughed, recognizing the brush-off for what it was. She hooked a friendly elbow in Ryan's and led them both to the door, dropping her arm so they could pass over the threshold. "Well," she said, smiling, "that's too bad. Because it's time to go. I guess Eric and Calleigh are meeting us there; I can't find them anywhere."

Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat as he walked down the hall beside Natalia. He had forgotten all about going out tonight after work until now, even when Nat came looking for him in the storage locker. Funny, that's all he could think about earlier today.

"Er, Nat… I think it's just you and me now."

She stopped abruptly. "What do you mean, just 'you and me?' What happened to Cal and Eric?"

Ryan put his hands on his hips and tilted his head a little, trying to think of a good explanation for their friends' sudden change in plans. Calleigh had suggested the night out, so it did seem strange for her to cancel last minute.

"Nat, H sent them home," he said carefully. "I think…what I found in the storage room shook them up pretty bad."

"He sent them home," Natalia repeated, letting Ryan's words sink in. Her eyes narrowed and she pegged him with a knowing look. "There's something you're not telling me."

Wolfe inwardly cringed. Of all the people in the world, Ryan could not lie to Natalia. She was just so… trusting…that lying to her seemed somehow worse than lying to anyone else. "Listen, Natalia, I would love to tell you everything that happened today, but I can't. It's not my place. You need to hear it from Eric or Calleigh."

"Was it that bad?" Natalia asked, worried. She reached in her handbag and pulled out her cell phone. "Maybe I should call and check on Cal."

"No!" Ryan said a little too loudly, darting out a hand to cover Nat's on top of her phone. She looked at him like he'd grown a third head, and, frankly, Ryan wasn't sure he hadn't. "I mean," he stuttered, "you should, uh, give her some time."

Natalia continued to eye the man next to her as she returned her cell to her purse. If Ryan were talking to anyone else, he might be able to pull off his little act. _But this is me we're talking about._ "You know what Ryan," she sighed, "I don't even want to know. As long as they're okay?"

"They're okay." _I think._

"Okay. Let's go get a drink, Mr. Wolfe," Nat said with a smile, dropping the subject of Eric and Calleigh. She was disappointed that all four of them couldn't hang out tonight, but she'd be lying if she said that spending time with Ryan wouldn't be just as fun. They didn't get the chance to do that very often.

"Lead the way, milady," Ryan said with a smirk which grew into a full-blown grin as Natalia rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Oh my God," Natalia laughed breathlessly. "How did I miss that?"

"I have no idea, Nat. I though all of Miami heard about it." Ryan had just finished telling her about Tripp tackling a suspect last week. The man had robbed a convenience store wearing a chicken suit. Frank had to chase him for three blocks before taking him down in a heap of flying feathers. He came back to the station with the guy in cuffs, wearing a sour expression and spitting out feathers and curse words.

"The next day, Horatio sent him a bucket of fried chicken for lunch."

"He did not!" Natalia exclaimed.

Ryan laughed and nodded. "Yes, he did. Well, it didn't exactly come with a card…"

"But that is _such_ a Horatio thing to do," Nat agreed.

They both chuckled. "So whatever happened to the chicken-man?"

"Don't know. Everyone was more interested in what happened to Frank," Wolfe replied, grabbing his beer and leaning back in his seat. "Speaking of which, tell me about court yesterday."

Natalia groaned. "And there goes a perfect evening," she said, only half-joking. She was finally letting loose for the first time in months, and Ryan goes and spoils it.

"Seriously? I thought you guys had that case all tied up?" Ryan asked, confused.

Natalia took a sip of her martini before she answered. "It was. Frank and I both testified, and we thought we'd nailed him. All of us did—even the prosecutor. But the judge awarded a last minute mistrial on some stupid technicality."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry, Nat. After all that work. Will you have to testify again?"

"If it goes back to trial. It's just…I mean, you know what it's like, Ryan. We _know_ he did it. We can prove it. But then the system breaks down and he walks free? Sometimes our job sucks."

Ryan nodded. "I felt like that last month with Lucas Wade. Different situation… but to think I could have stopped him before he killed again?"

Nat locked her brown eyes with Ryan's hazel ones. "We've been over this, Wolfe. You gave the man a ticket. You had no reason to believe he was some crazed serial killer. Besides, who else would have made the connection after the fact?"

"Oh, I don't know. Someone who wasn't forced to justify his entire life's work at MDPD?" the man said sarcastically, taking another swig of his beer.

"Stop, Ryan," Natalia said firmly, fire behind her eyes. "You made mistakes, but all of us know you belong at CSI. So Stetler's being an ass. It's his job."

Ryan smiled gratefully at the beautiful woman sitting on the other side of the small table. "You're right, Nat. One more week and all this is over." He paused for a moment to study Natalia's face, and she cocked her head to the side as he watched her.

"What?" she asked a little self-consciously.

"I couldn't have done any of this without you, Natalia," he said sincerely. "Thank you."

She smiled brightly. "You would have done the same for me."

"That I would," Ryan agreed easily. He raised his drink. "To great friends," he toasted.

"To great friends," Natalia grinned, clinking her martini glass to Ryan's beer bottle. They settled into a comfortable silence, listening to the live band and watching the people in the bar, occasionally exchanging a few words.

Natalia studied the man across from her just as closely as she did the crowd. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Ryan, something's bugging you."

"What?" Her question truly did take him off guard, consumed as he was by his thoughts and his surroundings.

"Something's bothering you. Is it Calleigh and Delko?" Natalia's observation skills made her a good CSI, but Wolfe cursed them when she put them to use against _him_.

_Is it Calleigh and Delko?_ That was a loaded question if he'd ever heard one. Of course it was Eric and Calleigh. But it was so much more than that, too.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asked, hoping she'd say yes.

* * *

Since Natalia's apartment was on the way home for Ryan, he followed her home and upstairs for a cup of coffee and a chat.

"Okay, what's up?" Natalia asked once they were settled on her couch. She sat with one leg under her, coffee mug held in both hands, staring at Ryan until he answered her question.

Three feet away, Wolfe shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to explain everything that had plagued his mind lately, but he wasn't sure where to start. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you'd just made _one_ decision differently?"

What would have happened if he hadn't placed that one bet with the death pool? His first time gambling serious money, and he got a taste for winning on a long shot. It was all downhill from there.

And then there was Eric and Calleigh. He was still getting used to the idea that they'd slept together. Their personal lives were none of his business, normally, but his entire conception of their friendship, of his own relationship with them, had suddenly changed. He'd watched them for years and never would have guessed at the true intimacy of their relationship. _You can't just move on from something like that. No matter how hard you try._

"One night can change your life forever," he said to himself.

Natalia heard her friend's words and wondered where all this was coming from. "Does this have something to do with your suspension, Ryan? Because this won't last forever. You know that."

He did know that. The consequences of his actions seemed dire at the moment, but they had seemed even worse three weeks ago. Three weeks ago, he wasn't sure he still had a career in law enforcement. He wasn't sure of anything—of his place at CSI, his future, his own integrity.

"Yeah, you know, I'm not so worried about that anymore."

"Okaay," Nat said. "Then what's going on in that head of yours?"

Ryan smiled thoughtfully and looked at the brunette sitting on the other end of the sofa. "Well, a lot, I guess. Everything is changing. My job, my friendships, the way I'm looking at my life."

"For the better, I hope," Natalia probed.

"Mostly." He sat thinking for a moment, and then in a stroke of bravado, he ventured to ask something he'd wanted to ask for a long time. "Natalia, why did you and Delko start dating?" There was a curious look on his face and a hint of whimsy in his voice.

_Okay, random_, the woman thought. _Why does he want to know about Delko?_ "Hmm. I don't know. We were attracted to each other. Both of us needed a little distraction, I guess. Why the sudden interest?"

Instead of answering her question, he asked another one. "Nick?"

"Yeah. Eric wasn't a rebound, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, not at all."

"So why the twenty questions?"

"I don't know. I've just always wondered," he explained with a crooked grin. "Things seemed to end so quick. You and Delko are such good friends now, I just wonder if it ever gets awkward."

"Well, was it awkward after we went out?" Natalia parried. She and Ryan only went on a few dates, and although they had some chemistry, the whole situation seemed weird at the time. She and Delko had just broken up—Ryan didn't know about the pregnancy scare—she was just outed as a mole for the FBI, and she felt kind of like a football being passed between players.

"No. I actually had a lot of fun," Wolfe commented, grin growing wider.

"Ha! You had fun spiting Eric." Natalia winked, knowing that wasn't truly the case. Minus the whole Lucha Libre disaster of their first date, Ryan was sweet and attentive, and their subsequent dates went relatively well. They naturally…fizzled… and after a few weeks they returned to their normal routine of co-workers and friends. Natalia hadn't thought about it before, but they never really ruled out the possibility of dating in the future. _This _is_ kind of nice_, she noticed, _sitting here like this._ _Welcome change of pace_.

Ryan rolled his eyes, enjoying the fact that they could joke about all this now. "That was an added bonus," he chuckled. "Tell me the truth, Nat. Why'd you guys break up?"

He could tell she didn't want to go down that road, but that only made him press harder. "C'mon. Boy Scout's Honor, my lips are sealed."

"You _would_ be a Boy Scout, wouldn't you?" she teased. Finally sighing in resignation, Natalia relented. "Eric and I started so fast, Ry. Girls around the lab warned me about his 'past,' but as I got to know him, I realized that chapter of his life was over."

Ryan shook his head. "I never did understand that."

"You know, neither did I," Natalia remarked. "He was going to counseling when we met. Damn—you don't know that Wolfe."

Despite his surprise at Nat's little revelation, Ryan made a movement to zip his lips and throw away the key.

"Speedle's death hit him hard. They were best friends. Brothers. Everyone just assumed that Eric's escapades after that were his way of dealing with everything. And maybe they were…"

"But you're not convinced."

She took a deep breath and let it out with a soft 'whoosh.' "I don't know…I just always got the feeling there was more to the story. When we were together, it seemed like he was trying to forget. And not just Speedle—forget _everything._"

_Yeah, no kidding_, Ryan realized in a rush. As of two seconds ago, he might just be the only person besides Delko and Calleigh who knew the real reason behind Eric's toothing. _He wasn't trying to forget Speed, he was trying to forget _Calleigh. No wonder neither one of them had been able to hold onto a successful relationship since then.

"So that's why you two broke up."

"Uh, no, not entirely." Nat was blushing. "Like I said, we, um, we got started so fast…two months after we started dating, I—I thought I might be pregnant."

_What?_ There was no use trying to keep the look of surprise from his face. Natalia's olive cheeks burned crimson as she tried to explain. "It was a false alarm, and both of us realized we needed to back off."

"And things were over, just like that?"

"Pretty much. It was the best thing for both of us. We're better off as friends. _Much_ better off."

Wolfe let everything Natalia told him sink in. "You don't want kids?" he queried absently.

"Well, yeah. Sure I do. Two years ago? With Eric? No. Someday, with the right guy and at the right time." A soft smile played on her lips. "Don't you? I've seen the pictures of you and your nieces, Ry."

"Yeah, I want kids. Like you said, someday." He stood up from the couch and reached his hand out to Natalia. "More coffee?"

She handed him her cup. "Please." As he traipsed to the kitchen to refill their mugs, Natalia considered their conversation. "You never answered my question, Ryan."

"Which one was that?" he called from the kitchen.

"Why so interested in Delko?"

Coming back to the living room, he passed his friend her mug and reclaimed his seat next to her. "Today was just…strange." He stared into the black recesses of his coffee. "When I said things were changing, earlier, I didn't mean just for me, Nat."

"Okay…"

"The stuff I found in the storage room, it brought back a lot of memories for Eric and Calleigh. I'm not sure they'll want to talk about it," he said quickly at the look of interest that crossed Natalia's face, "but, um, I learned a lot about them, and… I don't know, it's like I'm meeting them for the first time."

"How do you mean?" Natalia asked. That was a heavy statement to make.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied dismissively. "Delko started telling me a lot of old stories. Showed me pictures from years ago. I mean, he must have been twenty-three, twenty-four tops in some of those pictures."

Natalia chuckled merrily. "Well, that must have been a sight. They were babies!"

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. "Anyway, sometimes you forget that people have a story other than the one they've made with you."

"I know what you mean. Like with Anya, you guys didn't even know I had sisters."

"Exactly. How is she anyway?"

The conversation about Eric and Calleigh and Wolfe's gambling and the crazy day was officially over, and the two of them spent the rest of the night talking and laughing and downing cups of coffee. When Ryan finally looked at the clock, his eyes went wide with the time. Thank goodness it was Friday and they weren't on call tomorrow. Depositing their mugs in the sink, he made his way to the door, Natalia following close behind.

She leaned tiredly, but happily, on the open door as she watched her friend prepare to leave. "We need to do this more often, Ryan."

"Deal. You know, I think _3:10 to Yuma_ comes out next week. Or, I know you said you wanted to see _Across the Universe_. Catch a movie?"

"Deal," Natalia echoed brightly. With that he pecked her quickly on the cheek and disappeared down the stairwell, smiling as a thought formed in the back of his mind. _Natalia…hmm._

Upstairs, Nat turned off the lamp in the living room and straightened up the pillows on the couch, the same smile gracing her lips. _Ryan…hmm._


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: At last. What you've all been waiting for. Spread across the next couple chapters. (Read with the slightest caution. Rated T. This is Eric and Calleigh, after all…)

Chapter 8

* * *

Calleigh was waiting for him on the sidewalk when Eric finally made it out of the building. She could barely look at him.

"So, I guess… do you want to follow me to my place?" Eric asked awkwardly.

Her eyes darted momentarily to his face before she nodded and looked away. "Meet you there."

And that's how they left P.D. The commute to Eric's condo was excruciating. Once in the safety of her car, Cal let the dam burst. She cried for seventeen minutes of her twenty minute drive, cried until she had nothing left.

She couldn't banish the images, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn't drown out the sounds or keep the goosebumps from rippling across her fair skin. Flashes of the forgotten past blurred Calleigh's vision, so much so that once she pulled into her best friend's driveway, she could hardly believe she made it there without crashing her car.

It started with a look. The look, the feel of his lips against hers for the first time. The way he touched her, the way her stomach tightened and her head spun and her spine tingled. The way he tasted.

_A blur of skin. A trail of kisses._

Above all else, his scent was etched into her memory. She could still smell him. They'd worked an arson case earlier in the day, and he smelled faintly like a campfire, the kind of campfire that reminded her of hot summer nights when she was sixteen, reminded her of young lust and first encounters, reminded her of freedom and excitement and the thrill of the unknown.

_Crash of the front door, steam of the shower._

It wasn't planned, or even expected. It wasn't alcohol-induced or brought on by some sense of out–of-control desire. It simmered, festered, plotted its attack and waited for the precise moment they let their guards down. It took them completely by surprise.

_Lungs begged for air. Blur after blur._

Somehow, even in that moment, it never felt like a rash decision. Calleigh supposed it was because their collision seemed like an inevitability, even though neither one of them (she knew because they talked about it that night) had ever considered it seriously. Looking back years later, Calleigh recognized that statement for what it was: totally absurd.

_His whispers in her ear, his fingers in her hair._

She _had_ considered it, in the dark recesses of her mind. Had thought about it, their mutual attraction. She just never understood it, and she gave up trying to understand it long before they ever kissed in that bar. Eric was her best friend, and while she would never profess to comprehend the complicated web that was their relationship, Calleigh knew at least that. Anything else was a distant, irrational, ridiculous, dangerous concept. It was a million things, but it was never a possibility.

_Toes curling, against her will._

A dim restaurant, deafening music that drowned the crowd and shrunk their world to two, an innocent brush of his hand on her shoulder, and that look. _Those goddamned eyes!_ It took so little to spark the inferno between them.

And an inferno it had been.

Calleigh sat in her car and beat her fists against the steering wheel. Would she have to claw out her eyes to stop seeing him? Tear at her skin to stop feeling him? _I can't go in there like this. _

She crumpled, beaten, into her seat and let it all wash over her. She'd fought for so long, and she was tired.

_Eric kissed her softly at first, but electricity shot through them, desire crept from its hiding place and roared to life. It was controlled, barely. Before she knew what was happening, he threw down some cash, grabbed her hand, and they were in the parking lot. His body pressed urgently against hers, pinning her to the side of his car as he explored the depths of her mouth with need and passion._

Calleigh shivered at the thought and dropped her head to the steering wheel. He had needed her; they had needed each other.

_The drive was silent. Eric helped her out of the car, and the moment her feet touched the ground he had her in his arms. He walked them backward to his door, fumbled with the lock, and they fell inside as one. He kicked the door shut behind him and they stumbled to the couch._

She forgot nothing, not a single detail, of that night. How Eric's hands memorized every last inch of her curves. His lips found spots on her body that she never knew existed. Sitting in her car thirty feet from him, Calleigh felt the savageness in her chest all over again, the one that made her flip them over on the couch and reach for his belt. Their shirts were already on the floor, along with her slacks. Three years later she closed her eyes and could feel him carry her to his bedroom, as if it had happened only a moment ago. She was lost.

When they made love, Eric never took his eyes off hers. Calleigh could see in his chocolate orbs the same look which she knew was echoed in hers. Four eyes filled with sadness. Deep, resounding, empty sadness that penetrated through the jet black of desire.

Because this was all they could have. This night, this _one_ night together.

Eric refused to let the finality of that fact ruin the time he spent with Calleigh. He wasted nothing, took nothing for granted. Something passed between them and they silently agreed to shut out the world and just feel. Feel everything, without restraint.

Calleigh fought back more tears. They had agreed. They'd agreed to move on, because they were both painfully aware of the realities that surrounded them. The only problem was, neither Eric nor Calleigh ever _did _move on.

Mostly, they could forget. But not always. The casual contact and close proximity that their jobs demanded kept the visions of that night alive in their minds. Mostly, their friendship was more important. But not always. Sometimes when they looked at each other, they couldn't look away, and they _knew_… knew that the storm in their eyes was the longing that never totally left them alone. Knew somewhere deep down that friendship was never enough for them, but it had to be.

Calleigh wasn't sure that was true anymore. She wasn't sure of anything anymore. _Speedle's an asshole_, she thought acidly as she stared out the windshield at nothing. She couldn't see anything but Tim's damn photographs.

_The top ten signs you're in love with your best friend?_ Cal repeated bitterly to herself. _I only ever needed one._

"It's too late, Speed," she whispered tearily, finally climbing out of her car and steeling herself to meet her fate, her fate in the form of a 10,000-piece puzzle she called her best friend.

* * *

Eric beat Calleigh to his condo by five minutes. She spent another ten sitting in his driveway. He didn't blame her for fighting this. A small part of him wanted to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The only thing keeping him from making an escape was the knowledge that no matter how far or how hard he ran, he could never outrun his past with Calleigh. He didn't _want_ to, which scared him more than anything else.

He sank against the kitchen counter and buried his face in his hands. _I can't do this_, he thought.

What, exactly, did they expect to happen after they watched that DVD? They already knew what Speedle was telling them; saying the words out loud wouldn't change anything.

_That isn't true_, Eric groaned. He knew it wasn't true. Saying the words out loud made all the difference in the world. Seeing himself with Calleigh from the outside looking in… it had already put a hell of a lot in perspective for him. He'd convinced himself that nothing was wrong, but the truth was, his entire world was one giant disaster.

He was living a lie. Eric came to work every day to the sight of a woman he loved more than life itself. For three years his love for Calleigh was nourished solely by what he felt for her as a friend. Three years after that, he still attributed the strength of his attachment to her to the unbreakable bond of their friendship. Yes, they'd shared an incredible experience, and it had transformed the way he looked at her. But it was in the past. A fleeting moment.

His act was Shakespeare-worthy. Others could see the transparency of his façade, but they never guessed at the reasons behind the carefully constructed walls. Eric did love Calleigh as his best friend. But he also loved her the way a man loves a woman.

_The way a hero loves a heroine_, Eric chuckled mirthlessly to himself. _Damn Calleigh and her chick-flicks…_

Fine, he could admit it. _Are you happy, Speed?_ _I love her._ His confession opened the flood gates to the memories he'd kept at bay for three years. He'd fought for so long, and he was tired.

_Calleigh's breath tickled his neck as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his blinds. Her blonde locks splayed haplessly across his pillow and he longed to feel the silky strands one more time. He couldn't stop touching her. As she slept, he ran his fingertips up and down, up and down her spine and just… watched her. The goosebumps that dotted her skin while she dreamed, the unconscious little shiver._

_Their time was running out. He had to wake her up, wanted to see her in the morning light. He whispered in the stillness. "Cal?"_

"_Hmm…"_

"_Querida."_

"_Mmm." Sleepy eyes. A lazy, drawn-out kiss. His straying hands and her sigh of pleasure._ _Sighs that turned to moans, moans that turned to cries. And that look in her eyes…_

For months, not a day went by that Eric didn't wonder what might have happened if Speedle hadn't called that afternoon. 'H needs you at a crime scene, and have you heard from Calleigh?'

She was in his arms. All night, all morning, all the way past lunch. Speed called at 1:23pm, Eric remembered precisely, and he and Calleigh were still together, content to stay where they were and forget that anything existed but the two of them. Reality barged in and stole away meager hope. Would she have stayed the rest of the day? Would she have stayed the rest of forever?

_It didn't matter,_ Eric thought. _It doesn't matter._

They had agreed to never mention that night again. They both returned to work and pretended like nothing ever happened. They pretended, and they kept pretending, until most of the time they actually believed it was true.

They couldn't pretend anymore. As Eric heard the familiar knock at his door, he swore that if Speed wasn't already dead he would gladly do the job himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

"It's open!"

Calleigh came through the door and tiredly dropped her purse on the table in the foyer. When he heard the knock, Eric had left his place beside the kitchen island and reached for the refrigerator and two cold bottles of water.

When he turned to his best friend, the first things he noticed were her red-rimmed eyes, then the flush on her cheeks. She noticed that _he _noticed, but she just rolled her eyes and came to join him in the kitchen.

"You okay, Cal?" Eric asked her gently. _Of course she's not okay. Why would she be okay? This is not okay._

"No," she answered plainly, taking the proffered water. "C'mon."

She kept a careful distance between herself and Eric on the way to the living room, and once they got there she sat on the opposite end of his couch. He'd slipped the DVD into the player before she decided to come inside, so now all he had to do was press 'play.'

He hesitated, though. "Calleigh, we can end this now. No one says we have to watch this."

"And what," she said in exasperation, "go to work on Monday and lie to Horatio? You and I both know that's not happening."

"Well—"

"Besides, you're going to watch it with or without me," she interrupted quietly.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Still, Eric didn't move. Calleigh scooted over a foot and stretched to snatch the remote from his hands. She hit a button, the player hummed, hit another button, and the TV sprang to life. It started from the beginning, and Calleigh quickly fast forwarded to the point where they left off at the lab.

The bar was dark, the music loud, and Eric and Calleigh sat center stage in Speed's covert production, locked in a devastating embrace. Both of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats on the couch, but they managed to keep their eyes trained on the screen.

Soon, they watched as Eric pulled the money from his pocket, grabbed Cal's hand, and headed out the front door. Speedle's camera followed them the entire way, zooming out with dramatic effect as they exited. End scene.

Tim's face replaced the footage from the bar. _I didn't go out that night planning to film you guys. When I left, I looked over my shoulder and… there you were. Maybe if I'd kept my mouth shut this week, I wouldn't be sitting here with a fat shiner. Honestly, I'll take the shiner any day if it means you get your head out of your ass._

Two faint voices had begun to play in the background behind Speed, and as he finished his short monologue, they grew louder. Calleigh could tell almost immediately who they belonged to: Delko and Speedle. A few feet away, Eric swallowed so hard he was sure Cal could hear it.

_So, what was up with you and Calleigh yesterday?_

_What do you mean, 'what was up?'_

_I don't know, you were acting strange._

_Well, we walked up on two headless bodies, Speed. I'm pretty sure acting strange is allowed._

_That's not my point._

_Then what's your point?_

The voices faded into silence as Tim's face returned.

_Before you stop this DVD to come kick my ass, hear me out. Remember the experiment we were doing for the Fowler case? Yeah, well, I didn't either, not right then. Later that afternoon, I needed to log the data from the voice recorders, and…voila._

_Lucky for me, not for you. What follows is my most damning piece of evidence, brother, and you would do well to listen to your own words._

Calleigh peeked over at Eric and saw that his face had become flushed, but not in embarrassment. He was angry. "What is he talking about?" she asked, hitting the 'pause' button to force an answer out of Eric.

He screwed the cap on his water bottle and threw it haphazardly to the cushion beside him. There was just a little too much force behind his toss. "We, uh, we were testing decibel levels on various brands of digital and tape recorders. Remember Annie Fowler?"

"Yeah. Claimed she recorded her husband making a death threat."

"Right, and killed him in self-defense," Eric continued, "which wasn't self defense at all."

"Anyway…" Calleigh remembered the case. She wanted to know what conversation Speedle was talking about. _Wait…_ "Wait," she said suddenly, pinning Eric with an incredulous look. "You wrapped up the Fowler case the day you and Tim had that big blowup. I remember, because I had to finish it with you."

"Yeah, um—"

"It was about me." Her voice was deadly quiet. Her eyes had grown dark and her face was hard like marble. Eric didn't know what was running through Calleigh's mind at the moment, but he was sure it couldn't be good. He looked down at his hands.

"Yeah."

"You told him?" Calleigh sounded hurt and Eric's eyes snapped to hers. She had to know that he would never do that.

"Of course not. Calleigh, look at me!" She'd turned her head away from him, and he wanted to make this very clear. "Speedle knew what happened, but he figured it out on his own."

"Yeah, how?"

"Don't do that, Cal. Don't get mad. At the time, I didn't know how he knew. After tonight, it's not hard to put the pieces together. He saw us leave together."

Calleigh sighed and ducked her head. _True_. "We showed up together the next day, too."

"Yeah. Let's just finish this, okay?" Eric stole the remote back from her and resumed the video. Not that he wanted to… just like the scene at the bar, Eric knew what happened next.

More pictures played across the screen, moving at a turtle's pace and serving as a backdrop for the two disembodied voices.

_My _point_ is that Calleigh's wearing the spare clothes she keeps at your place. My _point_ is that you two showed up here together._

_She was drinking last night, Speed. She just stayed over at my place._

_Don't lie to me, Delko. Cal had one beer._

Calleigh noted the sudden fury in Tim's voice, and it took her by surprise. He never took that tone with either of them, ever. She heard what sounded like the clink of glass on glass, and she guessed that the two men had set their beakers or test tubes or whatever on the lab table.

_Whoa, back up. What's with the attitude?_

_The attitude? God you're such a… Eric, you don't just sleep with your best friend and then show up to work the next day like nothing happened. What the _hell_ are you doing, man?_

Calleigh could just picture Eric's face as he stood talking to Speed, because it probably looked a lot like it did right now. Blotchy with indignation, flustered, a little abashed. There was never any use in lying to Tim; he was like a human lie detector.

Silence.

She seized the opportunity to send Eric a questioning glance, but he said nothing, just motioned in defeat for her to keep listening. Soon, she could make out the faint sounds of footsteps and a closing door, then a sigh.

Eric recalled what happened that day in the lab with crystal clarity, and he was replaying each move, each look in his head as he listened to the dialogue. The door closed and locked, he walked back to the table, leaned his hands against the edge, sighed.

_Mind your own business, Speedle._

_This _is_ my business. I don't get what's going on with you. You're risking a whole hell of a lot, whatever it is._

_Don't you think I know that?_ Eric yelled.

_Then, why?_

_I'm not having this conversation._

Speed wasn't going to let it drop. _Yeah, you are, Delko._

_No, I'm not._

_Calleigh's not your typical one-night stand._

_Go to hell, _Eric spat.

_I guess I'll see you there… Delko, listen to me. You gotta fix this._

_There's nothing to fix! Just stay out of it._

_Okay, so you're telling me you just made love with the woman of your dreams, and then you agreed to forget the whole thing? Simple as that?_

_I didn't tell you anything,_ Eric growled through clenched teeth. His eyes were traitors to his cause.

_Eric, you love her._

Again, heavy silence.

_You can't lie this time, can you? You can't tell me you don't love her._

There was a long pause, and when Eric spoke up again on the recording, Calleigh had to strain to listen, even though they could have heard a pin drop in Eric's living room. Her entire body was trembling, afraid to hear what he would say next.

_I don't know what I feel._

_So you _were_ with her on Friday night._ Eric refused to answer. _Okay… I'll take that as a yes._

_This is between me and Calleigh, Speed,_ the younger CSI said.

_Maybe it is, _Tim's voice rang out, loud and clear, _but you two are royally effing things up—_

Delko interrupted. _So that gives you the right to interfere? I don't think so._

Speed forged ahead fearlessly. _You don't think Cal feels the same way?_

Sitting on the couch, listening to himself talking with his dead best friend, Eric felt his chest painfully tighten. He remembered that moment—the moment he gave up. He'd crumpled onto a lab stool and studied his hands for what seemed like an eternity. Then he answered.

_It doesn't work that way, man._

_No?_

_Speed, you have this, this twisted idea that love conquers all. Did it for you and Charlie? No. I know that's harsh, but it's the reality. In the _real_ world, fairy tales don't exist. _

_Who's being the cynic, now, Delko?_ Tim didn't like what he was hearing, but now that he had Eric talking, he wasn't about to ease up.

_For Christ's sake—you don't wake up one day and decide, 'Oh, I think I'll fall in love today.' Your problems don't magically disappear because you love someone! Reality isn't any less real. It sucked one day, and it'll suck the next._

_You think you can't be with Calleigh because she's your best friend? Because you work together?_

_For starters. But like I said,_ he scowled_, it's none of your business._

_That's bullshit._

_What do you want me to say, Tim?_ Eric screamed. Present-day Eric shut his eyes against the rage he heard in his own voice.

_Do you want me to tell you I love her? Yeah, I do. Do you wanna hear how I've loved her from the start? I can't tell you that. You ask me what happened on Friday, well I don't know! Are you happy? I. Don't. Know._

_So I repeat, you're royally effing things up. You're making it way harder than it has to be, man._

_You don't understand, Speed. You'll never understand. You think it was easy for me to walk away? You think I could do that to Calleigh if I didn't think it was the best possible option? For both of us?_

Tim was becoming just as angry as the man across from him. _How could that be what's best? How, Eric? Why walk away when that's not what you want?_

_She deserves better!_ Eric had finally lost his control, and his reverberating voice cracked with emotion.

Speedle stayed quiet for a minute, watching Eric and trying to figure out what the heck was going on.

_So that's it? _he asked._ You don't think you're _good_ enough?_

_She just… deserves better._

_Calleigh doesn't _want_ 'better.' Calleigh wants you, Delko._

_You don't know that_, he said acrimoniously. _You can't possibly know that._

_Sure I can. It's in her eyes every time she looks at you. Maybe she doesn't know it, or—didn't know it 'til this weekend…_

_Stop. Just stop, okay?_

_No. You said it yourself, you're in love with her._

_And it doesn't change a damn thing!_

_It changes everything!_

_No it doesn't! Because I'm still me and she's still her, and I can't be the kind of man she needs me to be._

_Which is just a lame-ass way of saying you're scared. You and Cal are both just scared._

Calleigh was frozen in her spot on Eric's couch. She heard the scraping noise of a chair being shoved across the floor.

_There is no 'me and Cal.' _His words were hard and cold.

_So, what, you're just gonna screw her and move on? You're right, she does deserve better._

Both Eric and Calleigh jumped at the sound of glass shattering. Cal remembered this, now. She'd walked down the hallway just in time to see Eric knock a tray of fragile vials to the floor half-way across the room. She stopped and stared, mouth gaping, as did everyone else within a fifty-foot radius. Unlike the muted sounds of Delko and Speedle's voices shouting from inside the lab, Eric's first roar and the shrill of splintering glass had echoed through the entire sixth floor.

Calleigh couldn't hear what they were saying, but she caught on fast when Eric threw the first punch. Then she was running. The door was locked from the inside, and in the precious time it took her to fumble with her keys, Speed and Eric had collided and crashed to the ground.

When Calleigh finally reached them, she had to use all her God-given strength to pry them apart. She ended up pinning Eric to the far wall of the lab and struggling to keep him there. Over her shoulder, Tim was on the ground, panting as hard as his two friends, bleeding from the mouth and shooting daggers at Delko.

Speed's glare was nothing compared to Eric's. The look in his eyes had frightened her. If anyone asked her today, Calleigh couldn't tell them what she whispered to her best friend in that moment. All she knew was that he calmed down immediately, scrubbed his eyes with one hand and then left the lab without looking at her.

The photographs faded from the screen and the muffled sounds of Speed's cursing melted away into the refrains of the background music from before.

_So there it is,_ Speedle was saying all of the sudden. He looked out at them defiantly with his week-old black eye and split lip.

_Delko, you know you love her. You really don't need me to make a list of all the reasons why. Stop making excuses. Calleigh deserves what she wants, and she wants you. _

_I should be happily married by now. You're right, love isn't a cure-all. So you don't believe in fairy tales. That's fine. But don't think for one second that Cal doesn't love you right back._

_Maybe the timing's not right. Maybe you both have some growing up to do. I don't know. All I know is that you're throwing away the chance to spend the rest of your life with a woman like Calleigh Duquesne. Hate to say it, bro, but she's the best thing that's ever happened to you._

_Take Charlie's ring and go tell her that._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

_Maybe the timing's not right. Maybe you both have some growing up to do. I don't know. All I know is that you're throwing away the chance to spend the rest of your life with a woman like Calleigh Duquesne. Hate to say it, bro, but she's the best thing that's ever happened to you._

_Take Charlie's ring and go tell her that._

* * *

Calleigh and Eric sat in stunned silence on either end of his couch. In life, Timothy Speedle was as mischievous as they come. They should have expected nothing less from him in death.

A size-four, white-gold, oval-cut diamond ring was burning a hole in Delko's pocket. He could feel the heat radiating from it so hot that he feared to touch it. Speed left Charlie's ring for Calleigh. For _Eric_ to give her. It was almost like Tim knew he only had a week left to live.

That bewildering thought sent a shudder through him, and Eric violently propelled himself off the couch to pace back and forth in the living room, trying futilely to dispel the feelings which were inundating him.

Calleigh was no better off. Her eyes were glued on the picture of her and Eric now frozen on the television screen, and her mind was running a million miles a minute. She barely noticed Eric stopping the DVD player and turning off the TV.

Just as the silence in the room threatened to collapse on top of them, Eric finally found his voice. "Calleigh?"

When Calleigh looked up at her best friend, all the memories came flooding back. Not just from their night together, but _all _of them—seven years worth of memories with this man. Wonderful memories, some painful ones, but not a single one that she would trade away. Those were the things that made them, _them. _She closed her eyes against the building tears and fell heavily against the back of the sofa.

"Just give me a minute, Eric," she whispered.

Eric nodded, even though she couldn't see it. And though Calleigh couldn't know it, he was silently praying that he wouldn't do something to eternally _screw_ his relationship with her. Then again, Speed's little video might have already done the trick.

Long moments later, Calleigh took a deep breath and opened her red-rimmed eyes to meet Eric's. "Did you mean it?" she asked quietly.

Her question took Eric by surprise, but he didn't hesitate with an answer. "Every word."

A salty trail descended down Calleigh's cheek, and she none-so-gently brushed it away. Then, as Eric had done before, she launched herself off the couch and began pacing. She wanted to say something but she couldn't get the words out, and two more rebellious tears streamed down her face.

Eric took a step toward her with a soft look in his eyes. "For what it's worth, Calleigh… I—I still do."

Calleigh whipped around fiercely. "Don't say that!" she screamed. "You can't SAY that, Eric!" Seeing Eric's stricken face and watching him sink numbly back to the couch, Calleigh immediately regretted her outburst.

"God, Eric," she sighed and plopped down next to him. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't look at her. "Sorry for screaming at me, or sorry for sleeping with me?"

There was a bitterness in his voice that Calleigh had never heard before, and it frightened her. Eric had one of the purest, gentlest, most passionate spirits of anyone she knew, and she'd made him _bitter_. The thought made Calleigh sick.

"It was never just sex, Eric," she murmured. The man sitting beside her finally turned his face in her direction, and when Calleigh caught sight of his eyes, she was blown away by the emotions she saw raging there.

"No, it wasn't."

Just those few words seemed to exhaust them, and both Eric and Calleigh slowly sank into the cushions, letting the quiet wash over them and searching for some kind of way to ease the pain, to understand what was happening. The room grew silent, but the air was charged between them as their minds strayed…

_Twisted sheets. Sweaty brows and swollen lips. Her nails dug into his shoulders, they both cried out._

Calleigh buried the heels of her hands in her eyes, desperately trying to make it all go away, but there was no use. Her breath hitched on a sob. "I can't get you out," she whispered miserably. "I can't get you out of my head."

Before Eric could respond, Calleigh was once more off the couch and on her feet, pacing just in front of him. "What the hell were we thinking?" she asked herself in disbelief.

Hurt shot through Eric like a bullet. "Don't tell me you regret that night, Calleigh. Because I know that's not true," he said furiously.

"That's not what I meant!" the woman cried, gesturing wildly with her hands. "I just meant…how did we let this go so far? Why didn't we _talk_? I mean, Eric! Look at us!"

"Would it have been better to talk about it?" Eric asked, rising from the couch to stand just inches in front of her. He felt three years' worth of anger and love and longing dying to break free, and he wasn't going to hold it back anymore.

"Would it have been better for me to tell you I didn't want you to go? Because I didn't. Would it have been better for me to tell you," Eric moved closer, "_every time_ I thought about you for the last three years? How I dreamed about you? Stop you in the hallway at work and whisper how much I wanted you?"

He was so close to her, Calleigh could feel his breath on her skin, and she stopped breathing altogether.

"You tell me, Calleigh. What would have happened? What would have happened if we never got a call-out that day? What would've happened if Speedle hadn't taken a bullet to the chest? Or if I'd seen this video then instead of now? Do you _honestly_ believe we could have made it work?"

Eric's voice chilled Calleigh to the bone; her body hummed as she locked her eyes on her best friend's. "No."

"Speed was right," Eric stated quietly. "We had a lot of growing up to do." He saw Calleigh's tears coming back and brought a finger to her cheek to wipe them away.

_To hell with too late_, Eric thought with surprising ferocity as he felt her skin beneath his touch. _I'm not letting this go. _"Calleigh," he whispered resolutely, "making love with you…I've never felt like that in my life. And maybe it was a mistake, but I'd do it all over again."

Calleigh sniffled and shook her head, taking a step back from him and attempting to clear the fog from her brain. "Too much has happened since then, Eric. You're acting like we can _do_ this, like we can be together and everything will be fine."

"Did you not hear that video?" Eric asked her incredulously. "I'm the last one to stand here and tell you that. Love _isn't_ a cure-all. But I think we at least need to talk about this, Cal. We never gave ourselves a chance!"

"You said it yourself," she replied angrily. "It wouldn't have worked."

"Not then, no," Eric clarified.

Calleigh threw her hands up in the air. "And what makes it so different now? Eric, all we have now is three years' worth of misery, and that's nothing to build a relationship on."

"Is that really how you see our friendship? Three years' worth of misery?"

"No, I—"

"Don't, Calleigh. Yeah, sometimes it's hard to look at you and not think about what could have been. Sometimes it does hurt. But most of the time I look at you and see my best friend. I see all the laughter and joy of the last seven years."

"Me too," Calleigh relented, her thoughts a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. "But that's exactly why we shouldn't cross this line, Eric."

"What, so I can spend the _next_ three years of my life wondering 'what if?' No."

Calleigh took a step back at the forcefulness of Eric's words. _Who does he think he is?_ "No? I'm pretty sure it takes two people to make that decision. You can't just decide on your own."

"You're right," Eric countered. "I can't make up your mind for you. But I can choose for myself, and I choose you."

"You choose me," Calleigh scoffed.

"I do. Calleigh, just hear me out," Eric pleaded, taking a step toward her. His words were spilling out almost faster than he could think them.

"Maybe I didn't know back then exactly what I wanted. I knew—I knew I wanted more, that I wanted you. But I also knew I wasn't ready." He took another cautious step. "I got _shot_ last year, Cal. I went through hell and came out the other side a different man."

Calleigh made no move to protest his advance, so Eric took one more step in her direction. "I understand a lot of things now that didn't make sense before."

"Please, enlighten me."

"Hey, don't do that." She sent him an apologetic look and he pressed on. "I didn't think I could be enough for you, Calleigh," he admitted quietly.

Calleigh's forehead crinkled in confusion. "What?"

"Three years don't seem like much, but, God, I was still a kid! I barely knew who I was. It's like you said, a lot has happened since then. Can't you see that everything we've been through has made us stronger?" Eric was invading her space now, but she didn't back away. "We're strong, Calleigh. Our friendship is strong. And I can finally believe what Speed was telling me, that I have something to offer you."

"So why now?" Calleigh asked him, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Why didn't you say something after your shooting? Why not say something before I started dating Jake? It's not like I was putting up any red flags."

"No?" Eric said sarcastically. He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to contemplate something deeply. "Let me think. What was it you said? 'I trust you with my life?' 'He's in Homicide, we're in the lab day and night?' The kiss in the hallway was just the cherry on top."

"Okay, so you're allowed to be snarky, but I'm not?" Calleigh asked angrily.

Eric sighed. "Listen, Calleigh, I'm sorry. But don't insult my intelligence by pretending you didn't know what I wanted."

"Right, something you wanted so badly that you would just stand by and watch as I ran to Jake?"

"What was I supposed to do, Calleigh?" Eric nearly yelled. He was at his wit's end. "Charge in on my white horse and sweep you away? Was I supposed to run after you and tell you not to go? I had no right, and you'd made it clear that wasn't what you wanted."

"I never _told_ you what I wanted, Eric!" Her voice broke on the words as she screamed them at her best friend.

How could Calleigh possibly explain that was exactly what she wanted? For Eric to rush in and save the damsel in distress, for him to steal her away and ride off into the sunset? She'd felt so damn lost, and for once in her life, she wanted someone _else _to rescue _her_.

Eric wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Calleigh so out of control, but he was so angry at the moment that calming her down was the last thing on his mind. "No, you didn't Cal. You just gave me the brush off instead."

Calleigh crossed the few feet between them and shoved him, _hard_. "It wasn't that simple, Eric! It's never that simple!" she roared, shoving him again.

He stood his ground, undeterred and even more angry. "Yeah, because we make it hard! Don't you want this to _stop_, Calleigh? And don't tell me the only way to end this is to walk away."

"It is!"

"No! Because I'm not walking away, not this time."

"Fine, Delko," Calleigh retorted furiously. "But you're on your own, because I'm done." She turned to leave but Eric caught her wrist and pulled her back.

"You can't just _quit_ me, Calleigh," Eric uttered brokenly. This was his last chance to hang on to his best friend. "We can't quit each other. We tried that already."

_Damn him!_ Calleigh knew he was right, and she despised him for it. Eric saw her resolve beginning to crack, the tears forming in her eyes, and he wrapped her tightly in his arms. "I hate you," Calleigh cried into his chest. "I hate you, I hate you."

"No, you don't, Cal."

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" she growled, trying to break free from his grasp.

Eric just held on tighter. His throat burned as he answered her: "Because I love you."

Calleigh's heartbeat tripped over itself and a wave of nausea coursed through her body. She struggled as hard as she could until Eric finally let her go. Tears were streaming down her face as she pushed him away. "I can't stay here," she breathed. "I can't—"

She never finished, darting across the room to grab her purse. Behind her, Eric stood in the middle of his living room, feeling much like an open book whose pages had just been maliciously ripped out.

"Calleigh, please don't go. We need to talk about this. It won't just go away," he begged her.

"Talk," Calleigh laughed mirthlessly. "Why? So you can tell me you love me? I don't believe you. It's too late. You're too late."

Eric didn't know what else to do but tell her the truth, even if she didn't want to hear it. "I'm not too late. I refuse to believe that. I do love you, Calleigh. And the thing is—I know you love me, too."

She really did believe that Eric loved her, but Calleigh couldn't deal with this right now. "I can't even think straight, Eric," she sighed, anger and sarcasm finally absent from her voice. She sounded…weary. "Just give me a few days. I need to clear my head. I need some space."

Eric nodded, but Calleigh saw the fear in his eyes. "I promise I'm not running away, okay?"

He observed her for a second until the earnestness in her gaze convinced him that she meant what she said. "Okay."

Cal quickly crossed the room and pecked a kiss to Eric's cheek. "I'll call you," she whispered, and then she was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I know I keep leaving you hanging, but there's always a method to the literary madness. Thanks for sticking with this story! You guys are great!

Chapter11

* * *

Technically, Ryan's probation should have extended another week. In some twisted way, the man wished he was still suspended. Not only had Horatio arranged for him to return to full duty eight days early, but he'd been thrown straight into the fire. _And by fire, I mean hell_, he thought grumpily as he walked down the hall of the Crime Lab, evidence bag in hand. _How the crap are we supposed to function with two CSIs?_

That wasn't entirely true, he reminded himself, because H had stepped in to pick up some slack, and a few days ago he'd finally broken down and brought in a few swing shift CSIs to cover the current deficits in their team.

Eric and Calleigh's long weekend had turned into five days, then a week. Now, ten days later, Ryan was starting to panic. Horatio remained mostly mum about his conversations with their two friends, save a swift comment here and there to keep Ryan abreast of the situation. "Abreast" was just a euphemism for "completely in the dark." He sighed as he thought about the implications of their extended absence.

For one, the team was barely keeping up with its workload. Their LT was the best criminalist from Florida to Virginia, and his added presence in the lab was probably the only thing preventing a semi-breakdown in their normally-seamless operation.

Second, the rumor mill was spinning so hard Ryan feared it might blow off its axle soon. The lab had ears, Wolfe knew full well, and not just those of snooping techs. Maintenance workers, lab techs, detectives, support staff—everyone was constantly tuned into the latest gossip, and more often than not, the rumors turned salacious and salacious turned to seriously dangerous. Accreditation problems, IAB investigations, federal spies… the list went on and on, because the Miami-Dade Crime Lab was excellent at its job, and anyone who is excellent at anything inevitably becomes a target in _someone's _eyes.

Ryan liked to think that they could keep functioning just as well without Delko and Duquesne, wonder team extraordinaire, but it simply wasn't true. Morale was down, productivity was down… something was just missing. _The two oldest members of this team, that's what's missing._ From Horatio down to the cleaning ladies that Calleigh greeted every morning, everyone missed them. The feeling was palpable, everywhere.

It wasn't just the fact that two senior CSIs took off for mysterious vacations at the same time; it was the fact that it was _Eric and Calleigh_, two people whose contributions were never fully appreciated until they were suddenly gone. Not to mention that rumors of romantic entanglement had followed behind them in whispers for years. The veteran detectives and staff could remember when the two first started at CSI, could recall the quiet insinuations that were inherently espoused about two young, attractive cops who spent so much time together. Back then, no one really voiced the occasional suspicions.

That had changed drastically over the years. Maybe it was the loss of Tim Speedle and the precipitous reduction of their world to two. Perhaps it was everything that happened after that, before Eric's run-in with the Mala Noche, before a fateful trip to Brazil. Ryan tended to agree with the majority of the lab, that Eric's shooting was the tipping point. The roots of the gossip didn't matter in the long run. What mattered was that the gossip existed in the first place.

The stories ran the gambit: Calleigh had taken a new job with the feds, Eric was dealing with another family emergency, P.D. tasked them for some kind of undercover OP, they'd finally flown the coop in passionate abandon. Ryan had heard it all, and he'd personally taken it upon himself to quell the more ridiculous suppositions.

Some of them actually bore some credence. Calleigh, for instance, received job offers routinely, from all over the country. And Eric, of course, was a dedicated family man. The one about Las Vegas and an Elvis chapel was a little far-fetched. _Like Calleigh would _ever_ go for Elvis,_ Ryan chuckled to himself. _The Desert Sunset package, definitely._

As for the official story put in circulation by both CSI Wolfe and his lieutenant, Calleigh was in Louisiana visiting her brother, and Eric had been sent to Orlando to help an old friend of Horatio's investigate a string of murders. Truthfully, Cal had talked about visiting Derek for some time, and H _did_ have an old colleague working a major case in Orlando. The facts checked out.

Unfortunately, even the best formulated cover stories could not deter the doubts. Why just pick up and leave? Why not contact anyone? Besides, Horatio rarely—if ever—outsourced his manpower, and certainly not at such a cost to his lab. Ten days? It was almost unheard of.

The coup de grace: there was no end in sight. No one could give any indication when the CSIs would return, at least nothing definite. Horatio hedged when asked, and all Ryan knew to do was shrug and repeat his song and dance. _I'm not their keeper, for God's sake_.

He was frustrated. Frustrated from his immense workload, frustrated because he had no answers, frustrated out of concern for his friends. That was the crux of the issue for Ryan. The longer Eric and Calleigh were gone, the greater his fear grew that they would _stay_ gone. The 'what ifs' plagued him, because not only did he face losing two of the best people he'd ever worked with, he was staring at the harsh reality that he might just lose his two closest friends. _And what if they come back? What if they work things out?_ That would change things, too.

As he turned the corner, Wolfe spotted Horatio talking to Frank down the hall. His boss caught his eye and motioned for him to join them, and as Ryan walked up Tripp took his leave, nodding a stiff greeting as he went. Even the unflappable Texan was feeling the effects of the strain coursing through the lab.

"What's up, H?" Ryan asked, coming to a stop in front of the CSI chief.

He simply turned and said, "Follow me."

The two men made their way to an empty lab. When Horatio perched himself on a tall stool, Ryan followed his lead, depositing his evidence bag on the table and leaning against its edge, arms and legs crossed.

Horatio relying on Wolfe? That was a change in and of itself, especially after the serious compromise in their trust over the last months. But with Eric and Calleigh gone, Ryan had seniority, and he'd become H's go-to man overnight. At least one good thing was coming out of this debacle.

"I talked to Eric this morning."

Ryan gave a small sigh of relief. He'd received a total of three updates from Horatio, equal to the number of times the man had talked to either Eric or Calleigh in the last ten days, and at this point, any news was good news. They'd effectively gone incommunicado.

Normally, Horatio might think twice about involving another co-worker in these kinds of inter-office (in this case, extremely _outer_-office) situations. But Ryan had made the discovery which served as the impetus for all this, he was there when all hell broke loose, and he was the main component keeping things together at the moment. He needed to be kept in the loop.

"That's good," Ryan said hopefully.

When Horatio didn't immediately respond, Ryan started re-considering his earlier position on 'any news is good news.'

"I wish that was the case, Mr. Wolfe." He looked down at his lap, where his careworn hands rested, fingers interlocked, and he twiddled his thumbs a few times before continuing. "I'm, uh, I'm not sure how this will turn out."

The remainder of Ryan's hope failed him as he saw the worry on his LT's face. "Is it that bad?"

"I'm afraid so," Horatio sighed, compassionate blue eyes traveling up to meet Wolfe's. "Eric sounded…he sounded defeated."

_Damn it. _"So he's just given up?"

"I'm not sure. But things don't look good. I'm considering my options, here."

"You're _options_?" Ryan asked, eyebrows hiked in alarm. "H, they've got enough time on the books to last for weeks."

"I know, Mr. Wolfe, but I have a crime lab to worry about. I can't afford to lose them both indefinitely."

"So…what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking that I may need to bring them back on rotating schedules. They won't be working together, but they will still alleviate some of the pressure on the lab."

Ryan chewed his lip and pondered the possibility of bringing Eric and Calleigh back to work before they'd resolved whatever the _hell_ was going on between them. Bringing them back distracted. "H, I'm…not questioning your thought processes here, but…do you really think that's the wisest thing to do?"

"No," he chuckled wryly, chagrin rather than mirth written in his eyes. "However, my hands are tied. We can't keep borrowing CSIs from other shifts."

H was right. This wasn't working, and they would need to re-vamp their game plan soon or their performance would begin to suffer. So far, they'd managed. _But long term? Not happening._

"They're not talking at all?" Ryan asked despondently, uncrossing his arms to shift his weight to his hands against the table behind him.

"Eric said he's giving Calleigh space," Horatio informed his criminalist, sounding dejected himself. "So I think it is safe to assume that, no, they are not talking."

Ryan pushed himself off the table and ran a hand rough-shod over his head. "I wish I'd never opened that box."

Somehow, a twinkle managed to find its way into Horatio's eye. "Don't say that, Ryan. This was probably just what they needed."

"What? An excuse to throw away nearly eight years of friendship? A chance to throw the lab into a tailspin? Yeah, exactly what they needed."

"We've got to trust them to work this out," Horatio answered wisely, although he sounded much more confident than he felt. "Whatever happens, it will happen for a reason. They're our friends, Mr. Wolfe, and they've battled worse. Let's not forget that."

Ryan prayed Horatio was right.

* * *

Half an hour after the two men parted ways, Natalia walked up on Ryan in A/V, sitting in one of the lab's swivel chairs and staring off into the distance. He didn't even notice her presence until she pulled another chair up beside him.

"Penny for your thoughts," she inquired gently.

Wolfe scrubbed his eyes and blinked away the fog in his brain. "Ugh. Nothing, Natalia. I'm just tired. It's been a long week."

_No kidding_, the woman thought as she studied her friend. He had dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. The two of them couldn't carry on like this forever, even _with_ backup from the other shifts. It would take four night shift CSIs to replace Eric and Calleigh, and they still wouldn't come close to having the same field experience.

She definitely commiserated with Ryan. "So…taking a break?"

"Something like that."

Natalia paused for a moment. "I, um, I saw you talking to Horatio earlier."

Ryan sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. "And?"

"And this has gone on long enough!" Nat exclaimed without thinking. She surprised herself with her own ferocity, but forged on nonetheless. "Eric and Calleigh have been gone for ten days. Neither of them is answering their phone, and you and Horatio seem to be the only ones who know where they are. We can't keep doing this!"

Wolfe abandoned his chair to pace in front of Natalia, squeezing his temples with one hand and gesturing with the other as he spoke. "I've told you, Nat. I can't talk about this. I'm sorry."

"Talk about what?" she asked, exasperated. When Ryan moved closer to where she sat, Natalia swiftly stood to block his path. "None of us even knows what's going on. I mean, are they on assignment? Is one of them sick? All I know is that your story is bull."

"I don't know where they are! Okay?"

"You know what happened, Ryan!"

"Yeah, and that's _all_ I know. Natalia, please just let this go."

The sight of Wolfe and Horatio talking in the hallway was etched at the forefront of her mind. The way H looked at Ryan when he spoke—she only ever saw that sad look in his eyes if something grave happened. _Like when someone dies._ _When he loses someone…_

Horror filled Natalia's features as understanding dawned on her, swift and strong. "They're not coming back, are they?" she asked fearfully. Actually, she wasn't really asking; she knew.

Ryan wished he could tell her it wasn't true, but he couldn't. "I…don't know. I don't know, Natalia." He collapsed against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms, assuming his thinking position.

Across from him, his partner's eyes went wide. She covered her lips with a shaky hand and slowly sank back to her chair. _It's not true. It can't be true…No Eric and Calleigh?_

"If you don't know, then…then that means there's a possibility—"

Ryan sighed. "Don't jump to any conclusions yet, okay? We're not sure what's going on."

"Not even Horatio? They don't show up to work for ten days, and Horatio just lets it fly? I don't buy that."

"H is the one that told them to leave, Natalia. I mean—not _leave_, leave. He told them to take some time off."

"How much time?" Natalia pressed.

But the man in front of her only shrugged for the millionth time that week. "As much as they need, I guess."

Nat shook her head. "See, that's the thing. As much time as they need for what? Why would Calleigh and Eric just up and quit their jobs?"

"They didn't quit their jobs, Natalia. Slow down."

"What am I supposed to think when you won't tell me anything?"

"Nothing! You think nothing, because it's none of your business. It's none of _our_ business." That was ridiculous, and Wolfe knew it. He expected Natalia's comeback before it ever left her mouth.

"They're our friends, Ryan. We care about what happens to them."

He pushed himself off the edge of the glass table and resumed pacing. He'd expected his two friends to be out of the office for a few days, not ten. _She deserves an explanation_, Ryan sighed internally. _She deserves to know. _He was walking a treacherous line, just by acknowledging that Eric and Calleigh were, indeed, missing for the same reason. Giving that reason away was out of the question. _Explaining the consequences? I can deal._

So with a deep breath, Ryan told her as much as he could. "They got in a fight, Talia. And when I say fight…I mean, yeah, they might not be coming back to CSI."

Natalia gasped. "What?" _They're best friends. What could they possibly be fighting about?_

In that moment, something began to niggle in the back of Nat's racing mind, something she'd heard in passing a few days ago. It didn't mean anything to her at the time, but now she was putting together all the pieces of the puzzle.

She cleared her throat and fixed Ryan with a look of rapidly-developing wisdom. "You know, I went to talk to Tripp the other day and overheard some guys talking."

"Okay…"

"I didn't think anything of it, then. But now it all makes sense."

"Natalia," Ryan sighed, wishing they could just move on, "what're you getting at?"

"They were talking about a detective who transferred out, just like that." She snapped her fingers. "He handed in his resignation and left. Ten days ago."

A guilty look spread across Ryan's face that he couldn't hide from Natalia's ever-observant eyes. When he averted his gaze, Nat knew she was right. "So, that's it. Berkeley left because of Delko."

The room remained silent for a minute before Ryan finally responded, quietly and reluctantly. "Yeah. Kind of."

"And Calleigh and Eric?"

"Have a lot of baggage to deal with. And that's all I'm saying. Conversation closed." Wolfe stood up abruptly, cumbersomely gathered his things, and hurried out of the A/V lab, leaving a disconcerted Natalia in his wake.

The man didn't make it far down the hallway before he felt a hand close tightly around his upper arm and spin him around roughly. He came face to face with an irate woman.

"So you're just going to leave it at that?" she hissed. "Tell me Eric and Calleigh are leaving, and walk away?"

Ryan jerked Natalia to the side of the hallway and lowered his voice to a furious whisper. "Shh! Do you know what kind of panic you could start if you're not careful?" His eyes darted from side to side to ensure no one was listening.

"But you just said—"

"I said they've got a lot to consider."

Natalia's eyes narrowed and she struck a defiant pose with her tall frame. "You know more than you're letting on."

"And I've said enough," Ryan growled softly. "If you're so damn worried, take it up with Horatio." Anger flashed across Natalia's face and he backtracked. "Look, Talia, I'm sorry. I don't mean to take all this out on you. But you have got to let this drop. Stop calling Eric and Calleigh, stop asking questions. Talk to Horatio if you want to, but I'm done discussing it. I'm sorry."

Ryan huffed tiredly and sent Natalia one last, pleading glance before he turned to leave without looking back. Nat watched him as he walked away, a sick feeling growing deep in her stomach. She could feel it; something was coming.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

Eric hadn't tried to stop Calleigh from leaving him. He just watched as she walked out his door, and maybe out of his life. He knew it was the right thing to do, the _best _thing to do—giving her the space she needed—whether he liked it or not. After she was gone, Eric had run Speed's movie on repeat until the early morning sun started to peek through his blinds. Only then did he go to bed.

Every time Delko's phone chirped or buzzed over the weekend, he jumped to check the caller ID, praying it was Calleigh calling. First, it was his sister, then a few of his basketball buddies wondering why he missed the game, then his mother. Monday night rolled around and Natalia called…twice. Eric didn't answer.

Tuesday morning and still no word from Calleigh. Horatio was expecting them back to work that day or the next, and only Eric's sense of duty propelled his fingers toward the keypad of his cell phone, hitting speed dial #1. Honestly, he didn't feel like talking to anyone. Like he could sense the way Eric was feeling, Horatio had picked up on the first ring:

_Caine._

_H, it's me._

_Eric, it's good to hear your voice. _

_Yeah, um, sorry about that._

_Don't worry about it. How are you?_

_Not…great. Listen, this might take a little longer than we thought. Speedle…Speedle had a lot to say._

_And it's more than you and Calleigh can deal with all at once. I understand, Eric._

_I'm not sure you do. I mean, I'm not sure we can deal with is at all._

_Eric…do you love her?_

_H—_

_Eric, I'm not your boss right now. I'm the man who married your sister, and I'm your friend. So be honest with me. Do you love Calleigh?_

_Yeah, I do._

_Then don't give up on her._

_She won't talk to me, H. We've made such a mess of things._

_Maybe, maybe not. Give her time to sort things out. Call me if you need to talk, and keep me updated about what's going on. But Eric, don't give up. We'll make this work._

_We?_

_Yes, we. This doesn't just affect you and Calleigh. Your friends care about you, Eric._

_I know. Thanks, H. I'll call when I know something else._

_No rush, Eric. Do what's right for you and Calleigh, and I'll handle the rest._

_Okay._

By Friday afternoon, a week after they first opened Speed's mystery package, Eric still hadn't heard from his best friend. Every second the clocked ticked drove him a little closer to insanity. He almost wished Calleigh would call and tell him she never wanted to see him again; at least then he could stop _wondering_. The not knowing was infuriating him. Eric had finally bitten the bullet and dialed her number, but Cal didn't answer. He fought the urge to hit redial as soon as he hung up.

When he found himself anxiously pacing his living room an hour later, clutching his cell phone in his sweaty hand, Eric decided he needed to get out of the house. Saturday and Sunday were spent playing pick-up games at the gym and running himself into oblivion on the outdoor track.

Monday night came again, but this time Eric wasn't drowning his sorrows in the miserable solitude of his empty condo. The time spent with his friends and family over the last few days had reminded the man that no matter what happened with Calleigh, no matter how much their relationship changed or how badly his heart broke, he'd survive. Calleigh's friendship formed an integral part of his life, but it didn't define him completely. Yes, rationally speaking, he could move on if worse came to worse. He just didn't want to.

Instead of moping, Eric had passed the day babysitting for his sisters. After a boisterous family dinner at his parents' house (where Carmen's scrutinizing gaze didn't miss the slump to her baby's shoulders), Eric came home and collapsed on his couch. _God, I'm exhausted. I haven't done a thing all day, and I'm beat. How is that possible?_

Babysitting his youngest nieces and nephews was simple: pop in a DVD, scatter the toys, and check for dirty diapers. He'd even managed to call Horatio earlier this morning while the kids napped, not that he had encouraging news. Or _any_ news, for that matter.

Eric rubbed his palms roughly over his eyes and forehead. _We're sending that man to an early grave_, he thought. Forcing himself off the couch, he headed into the kitchen to clean up before he went to bed. Most of the dishes were already finished, but he didn't want to leave the rest for tomorrow.

Horatio said he'd talked to Calleigh a few days ago, but he wouldn't give Eric any details. 'Just give her time,' the man kept saying. _I've given her ten days!_

Ten days. Ten days of silence, and wondering, and dreaming. Ten days of hope and despair, and ten days of not caring anymore because it hurt too damn much.

Two weeks, Eric had decided. He would give Calleigh two weeks to think about whatever she needed to think about, and then he would invade her space. His greatest fear was that he would give her too much time. What if she _wanted_ him to come after her? Wanted him to fight harder? Well, he would. If Eric didn't hear from Cal in four more days, he was prepared to chase her to the ends of the earth. And if that didn't work, if she still wouldn't let herself love him, Eric was cutting his losses…for both their sakes.

_God, I don't want to do that_, he thought with a heavy sigh as his head hit the pillow for the night. He reached up and switched off his bedside lamp and the room descended into darkness, the only light now coming from the full moon, casting its beams on his floor through his open curtains.

This was the time of night Eric hated most. That empty space between waking and sleeping where his brain tried to wind down and decompress from the day. _What use is it trying to fall asleep if your brain won't stop?_ Eric's mind was constantly spinning, and it seemed like his most tortuous thoughts visited him at night because they knew it was the one time he couldn't chase them away.

_Calleigh_. Eric discovered a long time ago that fighting the visions of her that came to him when his eyes closed was exhausting and futile. If he let his mind wander, let himself dream about her at night, facing her during the day was always easier. The lines between dreams and reality didn't seem so clear these days…_Speed's p__robably somewhere laughing his ass off right now._

Those were the thoughts lingering irritatingly in Eric's mind as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The clock on his night stand read _3:04_. Three o'clock in the morning, and Eric lay sleeping soundly in his bed, olive skin painted silver by the bright moonlight. He looked so peaceful.

_What am I doing here? _Calleigh asked herself for the umpteenth time since she slid her key into the lock of Eric's front door. Her hands shook when she did it. As stealthily as possible, she'd opened his door, slipped inside, and shut it behind her. Trying not to wake Eric, Calleigh deflty plodded across the living room, past the kitchen and open dining room, past the stairs that led to the office and guest room above, and down the hall to her best friend's bedroom. Moonlight invaded the space from every open window, but Calleigh could have made her way just as easily in the dark, she'd been there so often.

At the end of the hall, she stopped. Eric's bedroom door was open, and she could see his strong form lying motionless ten feet from where she stood. Her mind screamed at her in alarm: _What am I doing here? I can still go back__! _For long minutes, however, the woman simply stood poised on the threshold, watching the man within and thinking about her decision.

The innocence of sleep had stolen over her best friend, but Calleigh could still see the tiredness, the restlessness in his features. She longed to brush the worry from his brow, but she didn't know if she had the right anymore. She wanted that right, though, and she knew what she had to do in order to keep it. _Here goes nothing,_ she thought, taking a deep breath.

Cautiously, hesitantly, Cal pushed Eric's door open the rest of the way, and she stepped inside.

Calleigh kept her eyes on Eric as she quietly set her keys on his dresser and dropped her purse to the floor. Carefully, she kicked off her shoes and began tip-toeing toward Eric, peeling off her sweatshirt and abandoning it at her feet as she went. Wearing nothing but a pair of jogging shorts and a ratty old t-shirt, Calleigh pulled back Eric's down comforter with painstaking care and crawled in beside him. Her first knee barely sank into the bed, but as her weight rested more and more on Eric's mattress, it gave way more and more, and the man showed the first signs of waking up.

At first, Eric thought he was still sleeping. After all, how many times had he fantasized of Calleigh coming to him in the middle of the night? How many times had he felt the weight of her body dipping the mattress beside him, where she belonged? But it was always only a dream.

When the moonlight hit Calleigh just right, Eric woke with a start. Her hair had never shone that vividly before in his dream-world…there was definitely an intruder in his room. In pure reflex, he shot up half-way in his bed and began to fight, even though full consciousness still eluded him.

"Whoa, Eric! It's just me!" Calleigh cried when he grabbed her wrist painfully. His legs were kicking in his sheets, trying to get free so he could properly defend himself. "Calm down, it's just me."

"Calleigh," Eric gasped, head collapsing to his pillow. With one hand still gripping Cal's arm, he clapped the other to his forehead, trying to regain control of his racing heart. The adrenaline pumping in his veins and the sound of Calleigh's voice served to clear the fog of sleep and fear from the man's brain, although Eric still couldn't figure out why his best friend was currently in his bed in the middle of the night, under his blanket, holding him down after frightening him half to death.

"Sorry I scared you," Calleigh whispered sheepishly, relinquishing her hold on him when he finally relaxed. To Eric's shock, Calleigh continued to crawl underneath his covers until she was situated satisfactorily next to him.

"You came back," he murmured quietly, simply.

Calleigh leaned back slightly to lock her stormy, sea-green eyes with Eric's impossible brown ones. Even in the dark, she could see all the different shades—or flavors, she'd decided to call them a long time ago—of chocolate in Eric's eyes. She let herself drown for a minute, then she wrapped her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. Eric's body moved like smooth honey to accommodate her in his arms, and Cal gave a content, liberated little sigh which made his heart flip cartwheels. _God, he's comfy..._

"Yeah."

Calleigh was already half-asleep in Eric's arms. He studied her for a long moment, felt the rise and fall of her chest slowing down against him, listened to the cadence of her breathing, and decided this was all he needed from her tonight. Calleigh was letting him in, and everything else—an explanation, a discussion, some kind of conversation longer than five words—paled in importance.

Eric leaned down to place a soft kiss to her forehead. "Tomorrow," he whispered. "Get some sleep."

_That's what I'm doing here, _Cal reminded herself sleepily, a gentle smile slowly gracing her lips. _He always knows what I need._ She snuggled deeper into his side and buried her face in the fleshy part of his shoulder. "Thanks, Eric," she breathed, voice low and muffled in the dark. Eric gave her a small squeeze, and she heard him release a long, deep sigh as they settled into each other for the night. Soon, they were both asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: As much as I hate to say it, the time has come: I think 'Idiot's Guide' deserves a few (several?) more solid chapters and a good, strong ending. How should it all end? Hmm…

Thanks for reading this far!

Chapter 13

* * *

Calleigh woke up the next morning to an empty bed. However, the mystery behind Eric's absence was quickly solved: her keen ears picked up on the clanking of dishes coming from the kitchen. _Mmmm, man that smells good_. The scent of pancakes and bacon and percolating coffee wafted through the door to Eric's bedroom, and Calleigh was content to just languish in bed for a while and breathe in the aroma.

A quick glance to the clock told her it was still early; she had time. So, burrowing further underneath Eric's covers, Cal happily closed her eyes for another twenty minutes, until the dwindling sounds from the kitchen told her she should probably get up.

Eric looked up just in time to see a beautiful morning version of his favorite person padding barefoot into his kitchen. _I could get used to that sight_, he thought with a grin as Calleigh yawned and rubbed the sleepies from her eyes. She climbed gracefully onto a bar stool and set her elbows on top of the island.

"Whatcha cookin'?" she asked by way of greeting.

Eric's grin grew wider. "Well, I don't have much," he admitted, indicating the eggs and bacon on the stove, "but it'll do. Fried or over medium?"

Those were Calleigh's two favorite ways to eat her eggs, and he did well to ask which one she was currently in the mood for: it changed frequently. "Hmmm. Over medium. Wait—yeah, over medium."

"Your wish is my command," Eric chuckled quietly. He turned his back to his best friend to finish the last touches of their breakfast.

A few minutes later, he and Calleigh were seated silently at his dining room table, staring at what had turned out to be a rather large breakfast spread of grapefruit, pancakes, grits, bacon, eggs, and toast, topped off with fresh juice and coffee.

They said nothing to each other as the food slowly vanished, only alternating quiet, curious glances between them. Eric was dying to ask Calleigh _why_, and she was dying to know why he hadn't asked her yet. She could see the concern in his eyes, though, and she knew the answer. He'd pressed her so hard before she walked out, he needed to know that she was there because she wanted to be, not because of some misplaced sense of guilt for hurting him. When their eyes locked again, Calleigh reached over and placed a gentle hand on top of Eric's. She gave it a quick squeeze, then pulled away.

Eric set down his fork and reached for his coffee, considering her actions as he took a long sip. Replacing his mug on the table, he said slowly, "Cal, when you're ready to talk about it…I'd really like to know what you're thinking."

Calleigh's lips turned up in a soft smile, and she ducked her head thoughtfully. "Right now…I'm thinking I could use some more juice," she said and held out her cup imperiously.

Eric rolled his eyes. "Of course, your highness." They both grinned as he took her glass and obediently headed for the pitcher of juice chilling in the refrigerator. Both of them let out breaths they didn't know they'd been holding, because the laughter was finally back in their lives, laughter which had been absent for two weeks, and that they never wanted to lose again.

"Thank you," Calleigh said happily when Eric returned with her juice. She leaned both her elbows on the table and sipped it silently, thinking carefully about the road they were walking. The destination, the pace, even the conditions of their journey—Eric had selflessly placed it all in her hands.

"How 'bout we make a deal?" she offered at length.

Eric set down his fork a second time and swallowed his bite of eggs. "Okay…"

Calleigh's eyes never left Eric's as she laid out the terms of their agreement. "We finish breakfast, get cleaned up, then we go find some neutral territory."

Eric nodded, and Cal saw that he understood what she was trying to say. They'd made love in this place, and having a heavy, life-altering discussion here would be difficult, at best. They needed to find a place where the memories and the ghosts were absent, where they could think freely without influence from the past.

"Then, we'll talk. _Really_ talk, this time. Okay?" Eric noticed a change in her demeanor, almost like…like she was giving in. Not in the sense of surrender and defeat that comes from battle, but in that unique way that compromise has of bolstering your spirit—give a little, gain a lot. Calleigh was nervous, but she was determined to meet him half-way.

"That sounds fair." Eric held her eyes for a few seconds longer before breaking their contact. He wanted to add, 'I'm really glad you're here, Calleigh,' but he bit his tongue; she was in his home, proffering an olive branch, but she still needed space, both physically and emotionally. He settled for a meaningful look and three words he hoped could convey how glad he was to see her.

* * *

An hour later, Calleigh appeared in Eric's living room fresh-faced and wearing some of the extra clothes she kept upstairs in the spare room. With the exception of that…_one _night…she usually stayed in the guest room, and a lot of her things had somehow collected there over time.

"You ready to go?" she asked quietly.

Eric set down the magazine he was reading and pulled himself up off the couch. "Yep." He walked over to the kitchen island and added a few last-minute items to the cooler on the counter. "I figured we can go to North Shore, take lunch with us."

"Sounds good to me," Calleigh replied. Her nervousness was growing exponentially the closer they came to talking, and the fearful part of her was now wondering why she'd ever come back in the first place. She was at least grateful that Eric picked such a busy place for them to go. North Shore Open Space Park was a popular destination for joggers and families and gangs of young professionals playing Ultimate Frisbee on the weekends.

It was also located almost exactly three miles south of Calleigh's house in Bal Harbour, and from Eric's place in North Miami, they could be there in less than fifteen minutes. That was one of the many things she liked about living so close to her best friend—they were both familiar with the same parts of town, and they never had to fight about restaurants or movie theaters. Or which park to pick for a monumental and potentially heart-shattering discussion about their future…

"Calleigh, Calleigh!" Eric called. Her head snapped up and a faint blush fanned across her cheeks as she realized Eric had been trying to get her attention. Now, his eyes were scrutinizing her closely. Taking a step toward her, he said gently, "I'd tell you we don't have to do this, Calleigh, but you and I both know that's not true. Sooner or later…sooner or later we need to talk. If you need more time, I'll understand."

Calleigh's eyes filled with tears at the compassion in Eric's voice. She shook her head and gave a watery laugh. "I've made you wait long enough, Eric. It's fine."

Eric took another step forward and reached out a hand to rest on Calleigh's forearm. "It's not fine, not if you're not ready. Cal, I'm okay with waiting, really, as long as I know you're not just going to run away. Sorry…" He bit his lip, realizing how that might sound to her.

"No, you're only being honest. And that's what I want, Eric," Calleigh insisted. "Just…not here."

Eric grinned. "I agree." He grabbed the cooler and motioned for her to lead the way. "So, let's go."

Together, the pair made their way out the door to Eric's car, where Calleigh climbed in the passenger seat while Eric loaded the cooler in the back. A minute later, they were on their way.

"You still have this CD?" Cal queried in amusement halfway into the drive. She hit 'eject' and the CD slid smoothly out of the player. Before she could remove it, Eric slapped her hand away.

"Nah-ah-ah," he scolded. "Hands off." He carefully pushed the disc back into the player, cueing it to his favorite track.

"That thing's ancient, Eric. What happened to the new mix I made you?" Calleigh asked, opening the glove compartment to search through his CDs.

"I like this one, and your mix is in my stereo back home. C'mon, Cal," Eric complained, reaching across the car to shut the glove box. "We're almost there, anyway."

Calleigh smiled at the easy way their banter had crept into the car and dispelled all the tension, almost without either of them noticing. They _were_ almost to the park by now, and she felt much more at ease. "Fine. But when we get back in, I'm picking the music."

"Fine. Next time we ride in your car, I'm DJ," Eric countered stubbornly.

"Deal."

A song and a half later, and Eric and Calleigh were pulling into the North Shore parking lot. The far side of the park ran into the ocean, but the rest of it was full of green fields, playgrounds, and picnic tables. Spying an ideal spot, Eric led them to a table under a shade tree where they could overlook almost the entire park, including the beach. The calling gulls, laughing kids, and crashing waves offered the perfect amount of background noise: enough to concentrate on while they talked, but not enough to distract.

"This one?" he asked.

"Perfect. Do you have any water in there?"

Eric removed the lid to the cooler and shifted a few of the items around to find what he was looking for. His hand reappeared bearing two bottles of water. He set them on the table and moved the cooler to the ground and out of sight. Then, he took a seat facing Calleigh.

"Thanks for being patient with me, Eric," she said as soon as he was settled. Her eyes darted to her fingers, playing with the label on her bottle. "I know it hasn't been easy."

Eric nodded thoughtfully and looked down at his own water bottle. "This isn't just about me. I understood why you needed time."

"Yeah, but I at least could have called you," Calleigh said, peering repentantly across the table at Eric.

"Yeah," he smiled. "A phone call would have been good. But you're here now. That's worth something."

"It is," she agreed. "Hear me out for a minute?"

Eric nodded again.

Calleigh took a deep breath and steeled her nerves. "You have to understand that—that two weeks ago I had a boyfriend, and Speedle was buried, and I thought the past was in the past. And suddenly, the whole world flipped upside down. Jake's gone. Tim came back, sort of…"

"I know what you mean."

"Yeah, and then there's, there's _you_. I'm sorry for the way I handled things. And don't tell me I had a right to react that way," Calleigh added quickly when Eric tried to interrupt her. "Some of the things I said to you…they weren't just said in anger, Eric."

"They weren't true."

Calleigh shook her head with regret and a little embarrassment. "No. Not all of them," she sighed. "I just, I need you to understand why I ran—it's because I've spent _three years_ running. We never talked, Eric, not about Tim, or about being together. We stopped talking altogether. I didn't come to you about my dad or Hagen until it was too late. I didn't talk to you about resigning from firearms…"

"…I started screwing around, you had to find out from Horatio that Marisol was sick…"

"Exactly," she concluded sadly. "As terrible as it sounds, your shooting was the best thing to happen to us in a long time. I almost lost my best friend, and I realized for the first time just how much that would hurt."

"Calleigh—"

"I'm in love with you, Eric."

Calleigh's blunt confession knocked the wind clear out of Eric's chest. At first he couldn't speak it all, only stare ahead at the woman of his dreams. "You're—you're what?" he asked in shock.

"I'm in love with you." She gave Eric time to digest what she'd said, but when he still didn't respond, she continued. "I'm scared to death right now, Eric. I needed time to get my head on straight. We were blindsided, you know? But…ten days was too long."

Eric finally found his tongue. "Is that why you came back?"

Calleigh's cheeks blushed pink, and her eyes darted away from Eric's for a second before she answered quietly, "I missed you." Seeing hope spring to life in the man's gaze, she sought quickly to make sure he knew exactly what she was putting on the table. "Eric, I'm not promising you anything, but I at least want to talk about it. Okay? I'm not ready to go through the same heartache as before."

Eric sighed and reached across the table to take Calleigh's hands in his. "I'm not either." He played with her fingers for a moment, thinking. "I never meant to hurt you, Cal."

She ran her thumbs over the back of his knuckles. "And I never wanted to hurt you. We just…did."

"So, you think we still have a shot?" Eric asked hopefully.

Calleigh grinned. "Grandma Adelaide used to say: 'First the stalk then the roots.' Desire—that's easy. Needing someone is easy, and it always comes first."

Eric laughed and pulled his hands back from Calleigh's, his fingers tingling from the contact. "Mmm, well, we've got that one down pat." His laughter trickled to a smile. "I get what you mean, though. We know we…need…each other," he said, looking to Cal for confirmation. She nodded, and he added, "But needs have to be met."

"In a healthy way. Wanting each other isn't enough."

"Love needs support…So, what else did Grandma Adelaide have to say?" he asked curiously.

Calleigh tilted her head to look at Eric thoughtfully. "Every dog should have a few fleas," she answered, smiling. "We're not perfect. We're not _supposed _to be. But if we love each other…"

"…the fleas don't itch so bad?"

Cal burst into laughter. "Something like that. I think…"

Calleigh's laughter was music to Eric's ears. As he looked at her across the table, the mood shifted suddenly between them. '_I'm in love with you, Eric.'_ He couldn't forget how those words sounded coming from her lips, and he knew he had to lay it all on the line.

"Tell me what I have to do to make this work, Calleigh. Tell me it's not too late."

Fire was clawing its way up Calleigh's throat, but she fought it off with a ladylike cough and a small sniffle. The moisture in her eyes, however, wasn't as easy to dispel.

"It's not too late," she whispered. "Eric, listen to me. We've gone with our feelings for so long—I just want to sit and talk this out. I need, I need to know what you want. I need to see the big picture before we just leap into something blind."

Eric leaned forward and placed his elbows confidently on the table. "Okay, then. Let's talk."

Again, Calleigh smiled. "Okay, then. First rule: you stay over there and I stay over here."

They'd unconsciously kept their distance from one another across the picnic table, with the exception of the brief contact of their hands. For the same reasons they needed neutral territory away from Eric's condo, they needed to maintain reasonable boundaries now. Eric certainly understood why Calleigh would make that their first rule—any kind of proximity to her usually influenced his ability to think rationally.

"Okay," he said, outlining an invisible box between them. "Space is good. Second rule?"

Calleigh thought about it for a second. "Don't leave anything out. If you're thinking it, share it."

Eric nodded in approval. "Brutal honesty, got it."

"And third…listen. I promise I'll try to understand what you're telling me, if you promise to do the same."

Eric paused guiltily. "We haven't been doing much of that the last few years, have we?"

"No, not really. Eric, when I said I missed you, I—I wasn't just talking about the last ten days. I miss my best friend. I miss who we used to be before the world went sideways. Seeing all of Tim's pictures…"

"We were happy, weren't we?"

"Yeah," Cal sighed. "We were. _Really _happy. I miss the way it feels to be happy like that." A lone tear snaked slowly down her cheek from the corner of her eye. "I can't even remember anymore."

The corner of Eric's mouth slanted up into a grin. "I can. And I bet you can, too, Cal. It wasn't that long ago."

She sniffed and wiped away another tear. "I guess you're right."

"Yes, I am," he said, very sure of himself. "So, about this talk…I just need to know one thing."

"Hmm."

"Do you want lunch now, or after? Because I'm getting pretty hungry."

Calleigh saw the smirk on Eric's face and rolled her eyes. "You just ate."

"Cal, look at your watch," he laughed.

She did, and gasped at the time. Had they really eaten breakfast that long ago? "Now that you mention it, lunch does sound pretty good…"

They unloaded the contents of the cooler and dug in to a healthy lunch, just enjoying the breeze and the sound of the ocean for a while. Eric really was hungry, but he also knew that they needed some kind of emotional reprieve before they dove into the craziness that was 'them.' Later that afternoon, he'd look back on his decision gratefully; by the time Calleigh and Eric would leave North Shore, they'd be exhausted and exhilarated, in every sense of both words.

* * *

Just so Grandma Adelaide doesn't steal all the thunder:

"First the stalk—then the roots. First the need—then the means to satisfy that need. First the nucleus— then the elements needed for its growth."

Robert Collier


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I apologize profusely for my extended absence! It's election season here in the U.S., which, for me at least, means exhausting work weeks. Bear with me!

A/N2: In my crazy busyness, I've had some time to deliberate. The result: I'm not happy with the way I'd written the ending to 'Idiot's Guide.' I'm therefore extending it a bit longer than I anticipated. Hope you enjoy the slight change in direction! Read and respond, as always!

Chapter 14

* * *

Eric had planned to talk it out rationally, thinking about what he would say as they packed up their picnic. He wanted to do everything in his power to make things right, to somehow explain the depth of what he was feeling.

Like Eric, Calleigh was running through her mind what they should do: contemplate the pros and cons, list the problems they might face in a relationship and how they would handle them. They needed to talk about what they both wanted out of their futures, rank their priorities, discuss the similarities and differences. And what about all their other issues? Past relationships, Eric's shooting, why they slept together, why they never _talked_ about sleeping together, what they wanted then and why they didn't chase it. All the damn miscommunication.

But the talk—the all-important talk, the conversation that would change everything for them, the moment that would make or break their future—never came.

It started with the voices, just as Eric finished the last of his turkey sandwich. Over Calleigh's shoulder, he spotted a young family standing by another picnic table. The burly husband was none too happy, and he was letting his wife know it.

The man's angry tirade wasn't enough to extinguish the happiness that had settled over Eric in the last half-hour, though. Sitting with Calleigh, saying very little and enjoying the slight brackish breeze, he felt an unmistakable calm that had eluded him since the days he first started at CSI.

He turned back to his lunch and gracefully devoured the last of his wheat crust with a satisfied 'mmm.' Cal watched him with a twinkle in her eye and a small smirk playing on her face.

"What?" Eric asked somewhat self-consciously.

The bemused expression on her partner's face only made Calleigh smile wider. _He has no idea how cute he is_, she laughed to herself. Knowing Eric would throw a fit if she actually called him 'cute' to his face, she settled for a little white lie. "You'd think that turkey sandwich just made your day," she joked.

Her comment evoked a cheeky Delko grin and a quick waggle of his eyebrows. "You know, I think it just might have. Best turkey sandwich I've made in a long time."

"Creature comfort?"

"Exac—"

Whatever he was going to say was lost to a tremendous outburst from a dozen yards away. Almost as one, Eric and Calleigh's heads whipped around at the sound of the commotion.

The man whom Eric had previously observed with disinterest now stood ominously close to his cowering wife. Behind them, a small child sat in a high-chair and wailed in fright. Even from a distance, the CSIs could see that the argument was rapidly devolving into a violent confrontation.

"Should we say something?" Calleigh breathed.

Eric wasn't sure. The wife obviously feared her irate husband, if her body language was any indication. Before Eric had time to decide what to do, the man's raised hand balled into a tight fist and came crashing down.

'_Shit.' _Eric was out of his seat like lightening. He registered Calleigh reaching for something in her bag and thrusting it into the back waistband of her jeans: her Ladysmith. He felt the hard metal of his own weapon pressing against the small of his back, too, and he was suddenly grateful for the lessons time had taught. He never went anywhere without his gun.

Snatching his identification from his pocket on auto-pilot, he held it aloft and loudly announced, "Miami Dade P.D.!"

Calleigh did the same and added in an even voice, "Sir, you need to take a step back." Looking to the woman, who now had tears streaming down her face, she asked, "Ma'am, are you okay?"

The woman instinctively backed away from her husband and toward her baby. "I—I d-don't know."

The man had a crazed look in his eye that set Eric on edge. He advanced cautiously, ready to reach for his weapon at any moment. "Sir, please step back."

"I didn't do nothin'!" he yelled, refusing to budge an inch. "And that bitch started it, anyway."

Eric slipped his ID back into his pocket and lifted his left hand, palm out, in a calming gesture. He kept his right hand positioned surreptitiously behind him all the while, hovering over his hidden firearm.

"Sir, if you'll step back, we can talk about this. Just relax, okay?"

"I'm not talkin' about _nothin'_!" the man shouted. He jabbed a forceful finger in Eric's direction. "This is between me and her, so just piss off!"

Eric's voice hardened and a fire lit in his eyes. He was a force to be reckoned with, and this jackass was about to take him seriously.

"Don't make this worse, alright? You've already assaulted your wife in plain view of two police officers. I have no problem throwing your ass in jail for resisting arrest, too."

A small crowd had begun to gather around the scene, and in the back of her head Calleigh willed them to back away. Domestic disputes were some of the most volatile and unpredictable situations police officers faced; she saw the aftermath almost every other day as a CSI. These people had no idea what kind of danger they were placing themselves in at the moment.

Later, Calleigh would look back on that crowd with a sick feeling in her stomach, wishing more than anything that she could have been wrong. But she wasn't wrong. Without warning, the irate husband let out a guttural, reverberating roar and pulled a gun from somewhere. 'Somewhere,' because it happened so fast Calleigh couldn't see _where _it came from.

Several things occurred at once. The first shot rang out just as the mother dove for her baby; she crumpled in midair and fell to the ground, limp. Six more shots instantly echoed.

The first came from Eric and caught the husband squarely in the chest. Incredibly, he remained on his feet, and his arm continued in one sweeping motion as Eric squeezed the trigger a second time. His second shot hit less than an inch from his first. He heard the three rounds Calleigh fired, but he never saw them impact.

It was all over in a single second.

Three feet to Eric's right, Calleigh froze in shock. She'd struck the gunman fatally: two shots to the chest so close to Eric's that a bloody, gaping hole now marred his sternum, and one calculated shot between the eyes. He never stood a chance.

She'd fired too late, though. Because three feet away her best friend laid sprawled flat on his back, grasping his throat and choking for air. A crimson tide flowed through his fingers, and Calleigh realized with a paralyzing sense of horror that Eric was drowning in his own blood.

She lunged for him, her mind screaming. _NO! Eric, God no, Eric!_

"CALL 911! NOW!" she bellowed at the crowd behind her. People had scattered in panic and hit the ground for cover when the bullets started flying, but now a few of them had recovered enough to jump into action. Several cell phones were already in hand. "OFFICER DOWN!"

_Please, please no. Please be okay!_

Out of the corner of her eye Calleigh saw another couple of bystanders rush to the aid of the fallen wife, and she turned every last bit of her attention to her wounded partner.

"Eric!" she called desperately, cradling him as much as she dared. He fixed his watery eyes on hers, a cough bubbling from his throat, blood sputtering through the hole there and streaming out of his mouth. Eric seemed to be begging her for help, and as Cal peered into the brown depths of his eyes, her heart shattered into a million pieces. _This is a dream...just a dream._

Someone miraculously appeared at her side holding several small towels—gym towels, her spinning brain surmised, from the nearby basketball courts. She accepted them numbly, removing her blood-drenched hands from Eric's and replacing the pressure with the towels. At least, she tried.

"Eric, move your hands! I've got you, okay? Just move your hands," Calleigh coaxed, working hard to keep the terror from her voice.

Eric could only gurgle in response, but he allowed Calleigh to press the towels to the bullet hole that had ripped through his throat.

Calleigh saw a strong hand slip another towel underneath Eric's neck. "It's a through and through," a steady voice said. She chanced a quick glance up to the man beside her.

"I'm a paramedic," he explained succinctly. "We need to stabilize his head and clear his airway. Carlisle! Get your ass over here!"

A rush of immeasurable gratitude swept through Calleigh and she immediately returned her focus to Eric. _Of all the men to be playing basketball today, it's a fire and rescue squad._

Her nimble hands kept the pressure on Eric's wound, the white fabric now drenched red. Next to her, another paramedic kneeled to the ground with some kind of bag. Calleigh soon understood what it was when—Carlisle, it must be—began extracting bandages and gauze and syringes and on and on, handing them off to his comrade.

"Here," Carlisle said to Calleigh, indicating that he would take over for her. She reluctantly released her hold on the towels, only succeeding because the EMT issued new orders. "Hold him still!"

The CSI in her obeyed without question and she moved her body lower, pinning Eric down as best she could. She hadn't realized how much his legs were kicking; bile rose in her throat as she realized he was thrashing not out of fear, but in an all-consuming struggle for air.

Calleigh covered one of Eric's legs with her own and effectively restricted his wild movements. Her right hand reached across his hips, and she held on with all the strength that she possessed. Her left hand rested on his forehead and gently urged him to remain still. After a few seconds, she felt him stop fighting. Calleigh couldn't know it (because Eric couldn't tell her), but it wasn't her touch that calmed him so much as the soothing words she'd been uttering in an incessant, unconscious stream of encouragement.

Eric had never felt pain like this, or fear. The last time he was shot, less than a year ago, he'd been knocked unconscious almost immediately. The next moment he could recall was a week later, and by that time he was under the effects of some pretty serious drugs.

His thoughts were garbled with his pain. One minute he could fully apprehend his surroundings, but then his vision would fade into a series of slow-motion pictures: Calleigh sitting across from him at a picnic table, a turkey sandwich in his hands (_why a turkey sandwich?_), a crying woman, angry shouts then shouts for help and shouted orders and shouts of his name. He saw a gun in his face, but it blurred. Then… _Calleigh?_

Now all Eric saw was a beautiful face leaning down over him, inches from his own. He knew that face. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear her. He would give anything to hear her, and he tried to tell her that, but he wasn't sure if the words came out right. Again and again, he tried to speak to her, but nothing. _Cal-leigh…what's go-ing…on? I…can't…_

Lying on the ground, barely aware of what was actually happening around him and to him, Eric tried to tell his best friend that he couldn't breathe. The pain was unbearable. The edges of his vision had started to turn black when Calleigh's voice broke through to him again.

A fuzzy sort of realization dawned on Eric that Calleigh wasn't yelling anymore. She was whispering—just for him. "Eric, listen to me. You're okay. I'm here, and the paramedics, and you're going to be just fine. Listen to my voice, Eric."

He felt something hot and wet drip onto his skin and trickle down his cheek. _Don't cry, Cal. Don't cry_.

"You're not going anywhere," she whispered and gave a strained, watery chuckle, "because we've got business to settle. You have to fight, Eric. Fight for me, okay?"

A small hand slipped into his and squeezed it tightly. In the distance he heard someone say, "Forget intubation. We've got to trach."

A second later Eric felt a fiery pain at the base of his throat which he knew had nothing to do with the bullet that had hit him. His hand convulsed involuntary around Calleigh's, and she gripped his fingers all the tighter.

Above him, Calleigh watched on helplessly. She was practically lying on top of him now, and all she could do was whisper words of encouragement. _Where is the damn ambulance? _He was losing too much blood, too much air, and she was growing frantic. _Please let this work_, she begged silently. The tracheotomy tube jutted harshly out of Eric's windpipe. Carlisle and the first paramedic (Compton, she'd learned) worked blindingly fast, with sure hands.

Soon, to Calleigh's unending relief, she saw Eric's chest rise tentatively. Another pump from the bag attached to the trach tube, and his chest rose even more.

Eric felt the first rush of air into his lungs, then the second, then a third. The sensation was strange—air flowing to his lungs but not through his nose and mouth—but it restored some blessed clarity to his mind.

He settled his eyes on Calleigh, filled with determination. Another series of images flashed before him as he looked at her, but not the pell-mell visions from before. Instead he witnessed Tim Speedle's slide show, clear, as if he'd memorized every last photograph. And maybe he had. Picture after picture flooded his memory, of Tim and Calleigh, of happier days, of all the things he wasn't ready to give up yet.

_I'm not ready_. _I'm not ready, Speed._

An eerie peace spread through him, and Eric attempted one last time to convey an unspoken message to Calleigh. He felt her body on top of his, her hand gripping his, her fingers caressing his forehead…

_God, I love you._

…and all went black.


End file.
